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melchron · 4 years ago

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Nightmare Time Episode 3 Thoughts

I usually save this for the end of my thoughts but I have to say this now. OMG MATT DAHAN!!! I WILL NEVER NOT BE IMPRESSED BY HIM! Usually with the episodes I catch 1 or 2 motifs but I swear I caught everyone this time. And they all fit so well. My attention was evenly split between the music and the story this time. It was so freaking good. Matt deserves all the awards like omg.

I think this is the least laggy the theme has been. Good job going all out for the last one!

I said to my mom "Did Shashona record this video?" and she did!! Great cinematography Shashona!!

I also pointed out the Tim's daddy mask. I said "Aww he's wearing a mask for his son!". I guess my mom got confused and forgot Tim's name because she thought I was talking about Dylan's (nonexistent) son.

THE DRILL PRESSES!!

LEX AND ETHAN

I kind of already knew this but I love that Ethan knows cars. I just likes that he has a hobby.

Lex cares about Tom so much I love it.

WHY DID JANE TRY TO KILL ETHAN?!?!?!? TOM DOESN'T WANT TO MAKE LOVE TO HIM!!!! DID SHE HAVE SOME PERSONAL REASONS LIKE WHY!?!??!

That Lexthan interaction was so cute. I love how he saw she was super sorry and scared and he just stopped being mad and comforted her. They are so cute I can't handle it!!

KENDALL!!! Ok so through out this whole thing I know everyone was excited for their favorite character to come back but I really just wanted to see Kendall again. I guess after BF I assumed we would never see her again because I couldn't see them working with children becoming a normal thing. But when the original cast announcement came out I got so happy to see her name. So I was super excited to see her.

Her covering her hair with a beanie looks better than the wig

UNCLE PAUL I'M SOFT I CAN'T HANDLE THIS!!!!!

Cineplex Teen is like Larry from tawog. I guess we should start calling him Obnoxious Teen then. Until we get a name.

I love that Tim immediately likes Becky. Wish I could say the same for my stepparents.

Santa Claus Is Going To High School bb. Also I want to hear the rest of that song. Also also how many wigs does Lauren own?

TONY GREEN

Why must they make love to this movie everytime? Can't we simply just watch it and make fun of like normal people? That way Tim can enjoy it too.

Good for Jane for making sure her son doesn't have to eat disgusting school lunch. She gets good mom points.

Aww Becky reassuring him he's not a Dummy

Becky is like really horny this episode. Honestly Tom's into so go ahead girl

JAIME IS JANE

OK OK OK SO Jane said they were driving home from her parents house. Which means they were still alive when Jane died. That was only a year and a half ago so the Perkins parents might have died more recently than we thought. It's like Spring of 2019 right? So Jane died around Fall 2017. I don't remember if this was said in the show (it probably was and I'm saying nothing new) but I think Black Friday takes place about a year after her death. Tgwdlm took place October 2018. They have to have died only a few months before then. How long had Emma been in Hatchetfield before tgwdlm? Maybe there is a possibility we can see a flashback of an interaction with her parents depending on how long it's been. Also that means Emma lost her whole family in the span of a few months omg. And Tim lost his mom and his grandparents in that time. I want to see how they grieved with all of that. Also I know I'm crossing universes here but Emma also almost died the same day Jane did. Some strange force must really have it out for the Perkins family. Good on Emma for surviving like a champ.

Ok so I thought they went scouting for girls because Jane didn't want the man she loved to have to devote the rest of his life to a car. I thought she was trying to help him move on. She was getting good lover points but those have since been redacted.

Jane is definitely bi and I love that for her. I don't care if she tried to kill her new crush. It was new enough for it to mean nothing.

GREENPEACE GIRL

Tom does look like a creep ngl

Jane reminds us she's a car a lot. Like girl we get it.

No. No. No. NO NO NO NO NO NO NOPE! We're not talking about it. I don't want to. I stared at James the whole and honestly same dude. I saw Nick in my peripheral vision and loved/hated that he was laughing. RIP to me watching this with my mom. RIP to Kendall. Actually rip to everyone who had to sit through that. RIP to Jaime and Dylan for having to perform that. RIP to the cursed rehearsals. Matt and Nick seriously took the time to sit down and write that. What the heck you two?!? This made me more uncomfy than the entirety of mamd and Ted's character combined. I wish I was exaggerating. Maybe this was just me but it felt longer than it needed to. The relief and worry I felt when Tim walked in is a feeling I can not explain. Glad he was clueless.

Tim sweetie I love you but SHUT UP

Jane is crazy and Jaime is doing such an amazing job at portraying that.

Yes Tom. Because grave digging is way crazier than possessed cars.

I asked my mom why the didn't just go grave digging for Jane's body but my mom said the body is probably all rotted and gross so that explains that.

Why didn't Becky just go inside? If she went far enough I doubt Jane would have been able to hit her even if she managed to break into the house. Also let's assume Becky's house had an upstairs. There, perfect safety.

Did Becky seriously die in the same woods as Stanley?

Ok so I thought the tree thing was a reference to little Irish girl Becky from the Black Friday sk10 stream. But now it seems like something more serious and bad happened so I'm curious.

DID JANE GET TOM ARRESTED?!?!? It seemed like she could drive herself at that point. Why not let him get out and get Becky yourself? Is this that self confidence thing Tom talked about?

Is she really about to have her son be obsessed with Ms. Becky for the rest of their lives or is she gonna tell him?

This next episode made me physically jump twice. I say literally a lot but I promise you I'm using it correctly when I say I literally jumped.

KENDALL'S SINGING

I saw the thing about the ukelele being a bday gift from the cast so this was super sweet

Ok personal time. My grandmother's name is Pamela and my mom decided to permanently cut ties with her a few months ago due to her abusive behavior. Me and my sibling are still allowed to talk to her whenever we please but we haven't seen her as much as we used to. I got kind of scared watching this with my mom because I was scared this would trigger something. She didn't say anything and I didn't want to bother her about if she was fine so I didn't say anything. Anyway this just kind of hit different for me.

JAIME'S RANGE OMG

"I want to be alone with my man." Ms what are you about to do to your Tv?

DON'T GIVE HER BEER

Duke seems chill. I like him.

LEX AND ETHAN GOT ARRESTED!?!?!? FOR SELLING HER PILLS!?!??! THAT SHE TOLD THEM TO SELL!?!?!? I HATE HER!!!

Does Ms. Foster have a type or is being male good enough?

Hannah's 14? I thought she was the same age as Tim. I could have sworn in the BF commentary track they said she was 9 or 10. Did my brain make that up?

How does Kim change her hair so quickly? She did this in episode 2 too? I could never. I am very impressed.

Curt and Kim talking over the phone while standing shoulder to shoulder was funnier than it should have been

Ms. Holloway is cool. YAY MOSTLY GOOD WITCHES

How does Ms. Holloway know? I need a backstory please!!

Ok so I saw Jon in his cape and thought he might be the with. But then I saw James in his cape I y'know stopped thinking that. Anyway I'm obsessed with Jon and James in capes. Kind of wish Corey had one too.

OH I JUST THOUGHT THIS AS I'M TYPING NOW ok so that tree she was talking to at the beginning was one of the tree people. I'm embarrassed it took me this long to realise it.

Hannah is way too calm about these talking trees and sometimes spider ladies. I respect that.

There was a lot of black and white theming in this episode. More than normal. It makes me more curious about what exactly Hannah's connection to it is.

Hannah almost died in her own mind. I was kinda hating Ms. Holloway in this moment because she forced Hannah to go into her mind. But I know she had to so I'm cool with her again.

THE STARLIGHT THEATER

Did she really say just don't be scared next time? Like miss some actual advice would help.

CAN MS. HOLLOWAY'S MIND LEAVE HANNAH ALONE?? Like I know you didn't get the reaction you wanted out of her but you're seriously gonna give up and go for a little girl instead. Pathetic.

"What's shakin', Banana?" That was the first time I jumped.

WIGGLY

What exactly is that 6-legged girl? I wish we had a visual. Also how couldn't Ms. Holloway help her? What was her issue? Npmd you got anything for me?

Wiley. Just seeing him come up. That was the second time I jumped.

Also everyone already said this but props to Joey for his commitment. Shaving in between episodes like omg sir you didn't have to go all out for this. But you did and I appreciate you for it. Also HE KEPT THE JACKET?? WHAT!??! Just fully committed to this character go off Joey!!

Usually I would laugh at stuff phasing through the green screen but this just made it creepier.

HOLLOWAY AND WILEY/WILBUR BACKSTORY PLEASE

But also I love how the script had him listed at Wilbur above his lines. I remember Nick called him Wilbur once in the commentary track (possibly by accident) but it's nice to have it in cannon. I don't remember I any of the characters called him Wilbur because I'm so used to seeing Wilbur and Wiley used interchangeably but this was just nice to have canonized.

DUKE PAY ATTENTION!! FREAKING USELESS RIGHT NOW!!!

Dang Wiley she was already being choked in the physical world you didn't have to choke her in her mind too calm down

YAY MORE DOLLS

NICK I WAS KIDDING ABOUT AN APOTHEOSIS DOLL

Is the mouth one (I see we've named him Nibbly. Good because his full name is too long to type out) gonna be the npmd villain? The pick color theme seems cool.

ANGELA'S TRANSITION THOUGH!!! Omg she switched roles seamlessly. And her voice too!! Go off Angela.

MARIAH IS WEBBY

This is random and unrelated but I never noticed how big Mariah's eyes were before.

So Webby and the Doll Gang are all siblings? I find it interesting that the were described to all where black. And Webby's color theme is white. Like how the good and bad ukeleles were white and black. This might sound really dumb see as we don't have a 100% accurate visual of the black and white but I wonder if Webby ever left would it be 100% black? Like if Wiggly went through the portal would it become a little less black? Does this make sense? Also I'm starting to see the black and white as less of a bad place. Its starting to see more ominously neutral.

Hannah's favorite show is He-Man no I do accept criticism.

Ms. Holloway is a nerd. She saw Hannah make the reference and was like "Huh. I f she likes He-Man maybe making this hat a reference will make her like me." She would only know if she watched the show. But then again she seems to be stuck in the 80s so maybe she just thinks that's what's popular with the kids.

MS. HOLLOWAY PLEASE GET LEX AND ETHAN BACK

AND ANOTHER GREAT SONG TO END IT OFF

This episode was......a lot. So much happened. Loved all of it. I am scared of Nick and Matt's minds but also incredibly grateful for them. As usual everyone's acting was top notch.

I love this episode.

Also I'm just gonna say it. Jon ruined Nick's season one reveal.

#starkid #nightmare time #nightmare time spoilers #jane's a car #the witch in the web #Hatchetfield #mel thinks thoughts #melchron the good book

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the-fusionist · 5 years ago

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It Really Isn’t a Joke (Wonder Woman Salt One-Shot)

Author’s Note: Special thanks to @vixen-uchiha for giving me the idea in my asks! This is a one shot so I will not be continuing this. Also I love Wonder Woman despite writing salt about her lol (* ^.^*) Not maribat, but I do have a maribat fic in the works so yay!

Here I go:

Wonder Woman used to operate in Paris, at least for an extremely short time. Only a week really, so it hardly counted. She had assumed that Paris was safe in her absence, considering that whatever happened there couldn’t possibly be as bad as the enemies the Justice League faced. So she left, blindly disregarding the city that was about to descend into chaos.

Just a few days after her departure, she got word of attacks in Paris. A baby that enlarges. The next time it’s a pigeon man. The third it’s a video of two children decked in animal themed spandex begging for her to return to Paris and help them defeat a butterfly villain. She scoffed when she had watched it.

She knew that she had a large fan club, but she hadn’t thought anyone would be stupid enough to try and trick her back into their city. She couldn’t go back to Paris, the Justice League needed her and these kids should know better than that.

So she scowled as she deleted all of those videos before sending a short message about how they needed to understand that heroes have responsibilities. That a prank like the one they pulled is an unnecessary and dangerous distraction from people who actually needed her help.

After pressing send, she made sure to block them so they could never contact her again. She didn’t have time for ridiculous pranks. As a result, she unknowingly left two children to fend for themselves against a dangerous force. Two spiteful children who held immense power, who would soon grow even more responsible than she could have ever been.

~ 5 years later ~

Wonder Woman sat in the meeting room with a furious Batman and concerned Superman. She was confused about why Bats had suddenly called on such a meeting. She sincerely hoped that they didn’t have another world crisis on their hands. Those were never fun to deal with.

So she sat silently and stared questioningly at the two men. Silently, Batman pulls a remote from god knows where and presses a button. The computer screen, courtesy of Wayne Enterprises, in front of the table they sit at springs to life. A video begins playing, loud noise and crashes resounding throughout the room. Blood curdling screams could be made out among the loud booms.

The image whips around to face a recognizable girl and boy, who had aged since Wonder Woman had last seen them on a screen. She watched unconcerned as they faced a taller man who appeared to be surrounded by butterflies. The ladybug hero appeared to be luring the man closer to the edge of the building, giving up ground as they fought. Then, out of nowhere the cat hero sprang in and buried a peculiar dagger into the man’s back.

The girl then snatched what looked like a brooch off the man, who was falling to the floor in pain. His outfit seemed to melt off into nowhere as he lay defeated on the floor. The girl hero then shouted a muffled phrase while throwing the dagger into the air. As she was doing this, the cat hero was crouched down next to the body of the unconscious villain sobbing. The video suddenly cut.

She turned her attention back to the two men in the room, amused at the grim expressions they wore.

She laughed, “I can’t believe you two fell for that prank by those kids. They’re honestly so annoying. I love my fans but they definitely went too far this time. I didn’t think they would go as far to contact the league after I told them off. Oh well, I suppose you want to pay them a visit after they engaged in making these fake videos again. It really isn’t a joke.”

Superman looked at his colleague with unmasked disgust, while Batman seemed to fume darkly under his cowl.

“It really isn’t a joke. And neither are they,” Batman voiced in a gruff tone laced with icy rage.

The entrance doors slid open to reveal the two teenagers who had been in the video they had been watching just moments ago. The three older heroes beheld haunted eyes and the wary way Ladybug and Chat Noir walked. But there was a dangerous glint when they assessed Wonder Woman.

“Leave us. We have words,” declared Ladybug in a voice that left no room for argument as she stared blankly at Wonder Woman.

Chat Noir stood next to her, a silent sentry of support as he looked solemnly upon older heroes. Superman didn’t need to be a detective like Batman to know the look of distrust. With a silent nod Batman left the room reluctantly with Superman in tow.

Wonder Woman began to feel a slight sense of dread as she looked at the two expressionless heroes, but she ignored it. She didn’t have any reason to be afraid of these two.

Ladybug spoke first. “We wanted to tell you that we forgive you. Even though you abandoned us, it’s wrong to hold grudges. We will not be hostile to you unless you give us a reason. But it will take a while to develop an alliance with you after all that’s been said and done.”

Wonder Woman scoffed at the two children. She couldn’t believe they were acting so high and mighty. Like she was someone less capable. Like she was someone bad. It didn’t sit well with her. Who the hell did they think they were?

She voiced her question scowling, “And just who might you both be to be speaking in such a way?”

This time it was Chat who answered, giving a toothy smile that held a darker edge to it, “We are Ladybug and Chat Noir, holders of the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses of Creation and Destruction.”

Wonder Woman’s face dawned with recognition. Their costumes were very different from those she had been told of in the old stories, probably explaining why she didn’t recognize them. Their outfits had probably changed to suit their needs, as older Miraculous holders had worn battle armor and the like.

She couldn’t believe these two held that much power. They were only children. She had to take the Miraculous from them. They couldn’t possibly be able to protect them, given their age which hinted at inexperience. Yes, desperate measures had to be taken.

So the Amazon stupidly spoke, “Give the Miraculous to me. I can protect them and use them far better than the two of you ever could. So hand them over. Two children like you couldn’t possibly do anything to keep them safe from falling into the wrong hands.”

Ladybug lashed out, “Oh we’ve had five years of experience from keeping them from falling into the wrong hands no thanks to you, and we sure as hell aren’t going to quit now.”

The younger heroes had become tense, waiting for Wonder Woman’s response. The Amazon hadn’t expected resistance, but she knew what she had to do. She unsheathed the sword at her side and prepared to attack.

But before she could even swing her sword, she found herself immobilized by a yo-yo. Her sword was across the room, having been kicked away from her by Chat. She struggled as she tried to break loose, but found she couldn’t. She seethed. It was magic.

“You will not take the Miraculous from us. Give us your word that you will stop and we will release you,” Ladybug spoke in a dangerous voice as she stared down the older hero on the floor.

“I could protect the Miraculous better than the two of you. I’m much older and have more experience than the both of you could. The Miraculous has a long history with the Amazons, they practically belong to us. So release me and give them up.”

Ladybug nodded solemnly at Chat. Before Wonder Woman knew it, pain spread across her head as Chat swung his staff in a practiced way and she felt herself drift off. The yo-yo came loose but the Amazon felt dizzy. She faintly heard a female voice say something about someone called Kaalki. A bright light flashed and she felt the world around her darken.

~ 10 minutes later ~

Wonder Woman woke up in a bed in the infirmary. Batman and Superman stood over her. Clark had the decency to look concerned while Batman kept a stoic expression. A few words were exchanged and she assured them that she was alright, but she was annoyed the two teenagers had gotten away.

Batman had been watching the surveillance footage outside the room before it had blacked out. He and Superman tried to open the doors when they heard struggling inside, but they were magically sealed. As soon as they finally pried them open, they found an unconscious Wonder Woman on the ground near a note folded next to her sword.

Batman finally held out the piece of paper to Wonder Woman. It was a simple note, reading, “To Queen Hippolyta and the Amazons: Remember Atlantis.” There was no signature, only the insignia of a cat’s paw stamped in a deep black ink. Batman noted that the ink seemed to give off an unearthly green glow, similar to the Lazarus Pits. He noticed Diana had paled as she read the note.

“What does Atlantis have to do with this?” he asked sharply.

The Amazon gulped, knowing that Batman would not be happy, “You know about the legend of Atlantis and how it seemingly disappeared. Well, the ruler of Atlantis was actually an Amazon who had a quarrel with the God of Destruction. So, being the God of Destruction, Plagg ended up destroying Atlantis. Plagg and Tikki are the Gods of Creation and Destruction, and their power can be harnessed by the magic of the Miraculouses. Those Miraculouses are what give Ladybug and Chat Noir their power.”

Superman paled. He may be a kryptonian, but those were Gods. They had managed to anger Gods. He groaned.

Batman was furious at Wonder Woman. He truly worked with stupid idiots. First Superman had attacked the two young heroes when they had shown up after Batman had invited them. And now Wonder Woman had pissed them off even more.

Yup. They were in some deep shit. Wonder Woman finally realized, it hadn't been a joke.

Tag List: @rebecarojas07 @theatreandcomicfreak @princessanimeangel11 @maribatlife @ethelphantom @18-fandoms-unite-08 @queengeorgiaaa

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous fandom #ml x dc #wonder woman #superman #batman #ladybug and chat noir #ladybug #chat noir #ml x dc au #wonder woman salt #crossover #idk what to tag here #oneshot #one shot

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x--daughters-of-darkness--x · 3 years ago

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The Last Word: Shirley Manson on Fighting the Patriarchy and How Patti Smith Inspires Her

The Garbage singer also talks racial justice, living for now, and why legacy is an inherently masculine concern

Almost as soon as Garbage’s self-titled debut blew up overnight in 1995, their singer, Shirley Manson, became aware of the patriarchy running the music industry. Even though she was the group’s focal point — belting dusky electro-rock songs about making sense of depression (“Only Happy When It Rains”) and taking pride in nonconformity (“Queer”) — she was still a woman fronting a band of men, one of whom, Butch Vig, had produced Nirvana’s Nevermind. Almost immediately, she felt as though her role in the group was being devalued — not by the guys she worked with, but externally.

“There was a lot of stuff written about me in the music press, and that’s when I started to realize how I’m being diminished, how, in some cases, I’m being completely eradicated from the narrative because I’m female and not a man,” she says now. “I was talked over by lawyers; I was ignored by managers. The list goes on. It’s boring and tedious; there’s no point in me moaning about it now, but certainly, that was my awakening.”

That revelation emboldened her to speak out about equality and she quickly became a feminist icon, using her platform to bring attention to human rights, mental health, and the AIDS crisis. All the while, she wrote inclusive hit songs with Garbage about androgyny and reproductive rights (“Sex Is Not the Enemy”). On Garbage’s great new album, No Gods No Masters, she grapples with racial injustice, climate change, the patriarchy, and her own self-worth. But as weighty as the subject matter is, she approaches each song in her own uniquely uplifting way.

“I don’t think really the record is serious, per se,” the singer, 54, says, on an early May phone call. “I think it’s an indignant record. I think in indignance you can still carry humor with you, as well as softness, kindness, and love in your heart. I just felt it would be inauthentic to say anything other than what I was saying in my daily life across the dinner table from my friends and my family. I think as you get older as an artist, the challenge is, ‘How I can be my most authentic self?’ because that’s the most unique story I can tell. In an industry that’s just absolutely jam-packed to the rafters with ideas, opinions, melodies, and so on, you can’t afford to be anything other than your most authentic self. It won’t last.”

Authenticity and being true to herself are the qualities that have made Manson who she is. And those traits seem to guide her answers to Rolling Stone’s questions about philosophy, life lessons, and creature comforts for our Last Word interview.

What are the most important rules that you live by? I’m 54, which is ancient for the contemporary music industry. At this point, I feel like if it’s not fun, then I’m uninterested entirely. If somebody’s treating me poorly, I have to walk away. Life is so fricking short, and I’m three quarters of the way through mine already; I just want to have a good life, full of joy.

Who are your heroes and why? Patti Smith is a huge hero for me for a lot of different reasons. Most importantly, it’s because she’s a woman who has navigated her creative life so beautifully and so artfully, with such integrity and authenticity, and she has proven to me that a woman, an artist, does not have to subscribe to the rules of the contemporary music industry.

It’s very rare for other women to see examples of women actually working still in their seventies. That, to me, is really thrilling and really inspiring, and it fills me with hope. At times when you come up against the ageism, sexism, and misogyny that exists in our culture, I always try and picture Patti in my mind’s eye, and it always brings me back to center, like, “OK, adhere to your own rules. Design your own life. Be your own architect. You can continue to be an artist the rest of your life.” And to me, that’s life. That is a fully lived life.

You’re also a role model yourself. How do you handle that responsibility? I’m a bit speechless if the truth be told. I realize that I’ve now enjoyed a long career in music, and by default, I think people are inspired by that. I think whenever you see an artist, no matter who they are, when someone can endure, I think that’s exciting to everybody else, because it’s a message that says, “You too can get up when you think you’re done. You too can brush yourself off and try again.” By just continuing, you can help other people continue and fulfill themselves in ways that they thought they wouldn’t be able to.

I try to be a decent person. I make mistakes. I fuck people off. I say stupid shit. I’m not all-knowing; I am ignorant in so many ways. But I do try my best. I think that’s really all I can ask of myself.

How others perceive me is absolutely out of my control. There’s always going to be people who think I’m an arsehole, and that’s just part and parcel of being in the public eye. People are just going to hate on you, so I try not to take too much of it in; I don’t let it absorb me too much. I have gotten to that point in my life when I’m able to just go, “You know what? Fuck it. You can’t win them all.”

You once said that the idea of legacy was a masculine construct that you don’t believe in. Do you still feel that way? Yeah. I still very much believe in that. I know a lot of male artists who bang on about their legacy and their importance. Not to knock that if that’s what’s important to you but for me personally, what do I care? I’m going to be dead and gone and totally unconscious of any so-called legacy that I might leave behind. I want fun now. I want to have a good life now. I want to eat good food now and have great sex. It’s absolutely meaningless to me what happens after I’m gone. I want to use my time wisely, and that’s all that I really am concerned with, to be honest.

What is it about legacy that’s inherently masculine? This is armchair psychology, so please forgive me, but I’m sure it has something to do with how women have this uterus that can bear children. I think that’s profound. One of the few gifts that men have not been given is that ability to create with your body, and your blood, and your heat and all these nutrients from your body. Perhaps that’s one of the reasons why you don’t hear as many women banging on about the great legacy they’re going to leave behind. I think for women it’s their kids.

You’re Scottish. What is the most Scottish thing about you these days? I’ve got a lot of grit, and it’s served me really well in my career. I think that is a really Scottish trait. The Scottish people are tough, and they also have a good sense of humor. So, grit with humor. I should say “gritted with humor,” in the same way we grit roads.

As you were saying “grit,” it occurred to me that a lot of your songs are about survival and moving forward, going back to “Stupid Girl” or “Only Happy When It Rains.” They’re about perseverance. [Pauses] I think it’s funny you should say that because I’m just sort of like, “Wow, he might be right.” I do think that a huge theme for me is, “How do you overcome? How do we all overcome?” Things can be great for a while; things will not be great forever. And to every single life, these challenges appear. We all have to reconfigure ourselves in order to try to hurl ourselves over obstacles in order to have the kind of life we hope for. So I do think you’ve shocked me a little by discovering a theme for me. Yay, I feel thrilled. I have a theme. It’s exciting.

“Waiting for God” is one of my favorite songs on the album because of the way you address racial justice. How can we, as a society, fight white indifference? You know, that’s a question right there. It’s interesting that you use the words “white indifference,” because one of the things that shocked me so greatly is the ambivalence and the apathy of white people all over the world who are seeing what we’re seeing on our TVs and on the internet, and yet not having the moral courage to speak up. I think the most important thing we can do is pull back the carpet to see the mess on the floor in order for us to actually start cleaning it up.

If we could curtail some of the brutality of police against black people, that would be a good start. I think it’s going to be decades and decades and decades before we can start to really equalize our societies so that everyone is enjoying the spoils of Western wealth over in the developing world. It’s necessary that we try and help these countries that aren’t as powerful or as wealthy. It’s good for the whole world if we start to improve situations for everyone. Nobody will lose anything, and everyone has everything to gain.

But if I had the answers to how we go about fixing it, I would be in politics and not in music. I just know what I believe to be right, and I’m doing my best to use my voice to try and encourage my friends, my little ecosystem, to start with paying attention and supporting black businesses and elevating black voices and black talent.

What’s your favorite book? I have so many. The one that springs to mind would be American Pastoral by Philip Roth. I loved All the Pretty Horses by Cormac McCarthy. I loved The Collected Works of Billy the Kid by Michael Ondaatje. I loved Winnie the Pooh and Wuthering Heights. I’ve got so many that have really stuck with me that are classics.

My most favorite recent book that I’ve just finished reading is Dancer by Colum McCann about [Russian ballet dancer Rudolf] Nureyev. I was just absolutely mesmerized by it. It was just such a fantastic read, and he’s such a miraculous writer. He brought out Apeirogon last year about the struggle in between Palestine and Israel. He talks about this complicated mess with such clarity, kindness, and generosity. I couldn’t believe Apeirogon didn’t get more fuss made of it last year. Somehow it just seemed to get buried in the morass of other books, and of course the suffering that Covid had brought upon the earth.

What advice do you wish you could give your younger self? “Take up your space.” When I was growing up, to be a girl was to be told to minimize the space you took up: “Close your legs. Don’t be loud. Smile. Be cute. Be attractive. Be pleasing.” I inherently balked against that as a kid. I was a rebellious kid, and I wasn’t going to sit in the corner and be quiet. I’ve never been like that. However, looking back, I still notice some of the patterns of my own compliance. It’s not that I hate myself for it, but I just wish I could turn around and say to my young self, “Take your seat. If there’s not a seat there, drag a seat up to the table and sit down.”

I’m still really aware of the sexism and misogyny that I have had to battle throughout my career. I’m not crying, “Woe is me,” because I’ve obviously flourished in my career, and it obviously didn’t hold me back enough to hamper me in any way. But I feel for all the women who were unlike me, who didn’t have my forcefulness of personality, or my education, or my ability to articulate myself. I want that for all people, though; I want all people to stop trying to please, and accept that some people will like that, and some people won’t, and that’s OK. It’s OK that some people just don’t dig you.

On the topic of gender, I got a kick out of your song “Godhead,” where you ask if people would treat you differently “if I had a dick.” I’m really proud of that song, because I think it’s talking about something really serious, and it’s really fun. It’s about addressing the patriarchy, and how omnipresent it is. When I was young, I was so busy trying to make it, I didn’t see that there was a patriarchy in place. And it’s only as an adult, I start looking back going, “Oh, wow — when that A&R man told me to my face that he wanked over pictures of me, that was really uncool.” But at the time, you kind of laugh it off and just press on.

I was oblivious to it. In this song, I’m talking about how patriarchy bleeds into absolutely everything, specifically under organized religion. The “Godhead” is the male, and we are all under the godhead forever, and that’s unquestioned, and how crazy is that? Because a dude holds a higher position in society, because he’s got a dick and a pair of balls. Often, these balls are smaller than my own [laughs].

It just gets silly after a while, when you watch other men protect other men just for the sake of protecting the patriarchy. So few men are willing to speak up about bro culture and call into question the behavior of the men they are associated with. There’s just a reluctance by men to address this absolutely shocking, terrifying, depressing, pathetic assault by men of other people’s bodies.

In 1996, your bandmate Butch Vig said about you, “So many singers screamed to convey intensity, and she does the opposite. It just blew us away.” How did you come up with that approach? I don’t know. I’ve found that when people speak to me quietly, I feel the most threatened because I’m really comfortable with conflict. I thrive on conflict. It excites me in a funny way. When people are shouting, I don’t feel scared. I like to shout back; that’s just how my family were. We’d just start to shout at each other all the time. I’m not scared of elevated temper. For me, when people get really quiet, that’s when I know they’re really serious, because they’re in control of their rage, and that’s when they’re most deadly.

The last question I have is a shallow one. I love being cheap and superficial.

What’s the most indulgent purchase you’ve ever made? At the height of my success, I hired a person who would shop for me and then send everything in a big box to my hotel room. I would choose what I wanted and return anything else. One day, this beautiful pair of Italian leather boots arrived. I wore a pair very similar in the “Stupid Girl” video, and I thought, “Oh, yeah, these are really me. I’m going to keep these. These are amazing.” It was only when I got back from tour, I found out they cost $5,000. I can’t even laugh about it. It makes me so crazy. I still have these boots. I’d like to get rid of them just so that I never have to look at them again, but there they are every day, warning me of my own greed.

#shirley manson #garbage #2021 interviews

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jokertrap-ran · 4 years ago

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[Stand My Heroes] 花ざかりのSwallow tail (Swallow Tail in Full Bloom) Event Story: Investigation ① Translations

*Master-list will be created In the future *MC name is retained default Izumi Rei *Scenerio Writer: @benihara_k (紅原香)

Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6

Investigation 1: Chapter 1

It was 3 o’clock, a time where even the plants and fauna were asleep-- Not really; but it was pretty late into the night. A certain scheme was unfolding within one of the rooms in the Kujo Manor.

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Kirishima: LET OUT SECRET STRATEGIC MEETING BEGIN!!!

Kaname: That’s clearly not the volume you should be speaking in if you want to keep this secret...Anyway, where’s Kiyoshi-san?

Kirishima: He said that he can’t come due to work.

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Shindo: Pass me the Record of the Proceedings later. I’ll go through them.

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Kirishima: ...So, he says.

Kaname: Understood.

Kaname: So what’s the agenda here?

Kirishima: I was thinking of doing something for Miyase since we’re always causing him trouble on our end.

Kirishima: I mean, he feeds us good food on a daily basis and makes all of our rooms sparkling clean.

Kirishima: We’re able to live in such comfort everyday thanks to him.

Kirishima: Long story short , I want to do something big.

Kirishima: SOMETHING THAT GOES KINDA LIKE CRACKLE-BOOM-POW!

Kirishima: ...Kinda like that sorta.

Kaname: That’s not of much help though.

Kirishima: No, it’s plenty, don’t you think!?

Kujo: It’s fine. I can tell that you’re thankful towards Go, at least.

Kirishima: As expected of you, Kujo-san! It must be the tension!

Kaname: (He could tell just from that…?)

Kujo: If we had to convey our gratitude for him not in words, but through actions,

Kujo: Perhaps it would be prudent for us to create a space for him where he can relax and take his mind off.

Kirishima: ...Something relaxing…? Then how about a trip to the Hot Springs…?

Kujo: I see. It could also very well be something overseas.

Kujo: There are also a couple of great Hot Springs located in Italy and Hungary.

Kujo: How does renting one of those Hot Spring Facilities sound?

Kirishima: That’ll certainly be an amazing feat!

Kujo: And then, after he has thoroughly relaxed from the Hot Springs, how about calling in a Top-Notch Chef and treating him to a scrumptious full-course?

Kujo: Maybe we should also get him a special seat to the Opera and grace his ears with wonderful singing.

Kirishima: That’s great! Kujo-san! Let’s just roll with that!

Kaname: Hold up. Don’t you think that’s taking things a little too far?

Kirishima: Can’t we do that?

Kaname: It’s not that we can’t, but since it’s a party for him…

Kaname: Wouldn’t it be better if we do things based off things he likes?

Kujo: Things that he likes…

Kujo: How about the garden that he takes care of?

☆⋅⋆ …⋅─────────────────────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Investigation 1: Chapter 2

Kirishima: I think that’s a super duper great idea!

Kaname: Then how about we hold a Garden Party?

Kujo: I see; that’s a brilliant idea.

Kujo: However, it’s boring to simply just hold a party.

Kaname: What if we add on a concept to it then?

Kujo: ...Come to think of it, there’s something called a Butlers’ Cafe.

Kujo: I’ve seen it on TV before.

Kujo: It’s a place where people serve their customers with hospitality whilst dressed as Butlers; just as the name implies.

Kujo: I think it’ll make for a pretty interesting idea.

Kaname: Wait, so we’re going to be holding a butler-themed party?

Kujo: Indeed. We shall become butlers and serve him with hospitality.

Kujo: I think that this is the best bet we have to show him how grateful we are to him, don’t you think?

Kirishima: I think you’ll look super duper cool dressed as a sheep, Kujo-san!

Kirishima: I’m sure he’ll also be appeased and pleased by how fluffy you’ll be!

Kaname: Butlers, not sheep. They’re someone who takes care of others.

Kirishima: What’s with that; how confusing!

Kirishima: Alright, let’s decide who else we should call in on our plan!

Kirishima: It’s a party for him, so I want to do it with a bang.

Kujo: Of course, I’m sure he’ll be happy if it’s a lively party.

Kirishima: ‘Kay. I’ll tell Shindou about it later!

Kujo: We’ll be leaving that to you, Kirishima. Do tell him when the next meeting is scheduled too.

Kujo: Let’s see...how about next week, same day and time?

Kujo: There are still a lot of things we have to think about.

☆⋅⋆ …⋅─────────────────────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Investigation 1: Chapter 3

Kirishima: I’m glad we were able to decide on something so soon thanks to Kujo-san and Kaname!

Kirishima: Still, all this thinking has got me hungry. Maybe I should search the fridge and see if there’s anything edible in there.

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Miyase: Oh, Kirishima-san! Good evening.

Kirishima: Miyase, you’re still awake at this hour?

Miyase: I’m planning on making Meatloaf tomorrow, so I’m in the middle of preparing it right now.

Kirishima: Ohh! Sounds delicious!

Miyase: Yup. It’s something that I’m confident in making, myself.

Kirishima: (To think that he’s been preparing for it till this late...)

Kirishima: (We really do have to thank him properly for his hard work everyday. I’ll definitely make this party of ours a success!)

☆⋅⋆ …⋅─────────────────────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Investigation 1: Chapter 4

--A couple of days later.

Sugano: Good work today! Here are the files you asked for.

Rei: Yes, these are the ones.

Sugano: Say, did you receive an invitation too?

Sugano: The one for the “Thank you Miyase Party”?

Rei: Well, everyone in the Narcotics department got one.

The multitude of invitations sent to the Investigation Planning Division. Written inside an envelope that had been sealed with a red wax seal was:

“We have decided to cordially hold a thank you party for Miyase Go, a member of the Kujo Family.”

“We’d be honoured if everyone who has been under his care participates in this party.”

Sugano: Oh, same here. Say, this invitation was also sent out to others asides from the Narcs and the Investigation Planning Division, right?

Rei: I think so. Most probably.

Imaoji: If that’s so, then I think that they sent out quite a number of these invitations.

Sugano: I don’t really get it but it does sound fun.

Sugano: I plan on going, but what about you two?

Rei: I’m going. I’m definitely participating in his thank you party.

Imaoji: I’ll go too if she’s going.

Sugano: Yay! A Kujo Family party sounds like it’ll be something awesome!

Sugano: I'm sure the food will be great! And it'll probably be real extravagant too! Plus, lots of celebrities will be there~

Imaoji: A party held by the Kujo Family is almost certainly guaranteed to be a big thing.

Sugano: Whee~ I can't wait! Oh, right! Tsukasa-san said that he's coming too.

Asagiri: Only because I'm worried if Natsuki's going there alone.

Sugano: Eh~ I'll be fine! I always have good table manners.

Rei: Is Arakida-san and Hattori-san going as well?

Sugano: Sousei has something on that day so he won't be going. And as for You-san…

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Hattori: Maybe, if I feel like it.

─────────────────────────⋅…⋆⋅☆

Sugano: So he says.

Rei: Ahaha, that's just like him to say that…

Asagiri: How about your end?

Rei: Everyone says that they'd love to participate if they could make the time for it, but…

Rei: Seki-san and Natsume-kun say that their participation depends on how the cases they're involved in proceeds, I suppose.

Rei: Seems like they're going to be headed to a location near the mountains for their cases.

Imaoji: And Watabe-san did mention before that he had a dinner scheduled on the day itself.

Asagiri: What about that guy?

Rei: That guy? Who…?

Asagiri: I'm talking about Aoyama.

Rei: It seems like he's free on the day so he's willing to attend.

Asagiri: ...I see.

Rei: (He looks really disgruntled…)

Rei: (Come to think of it, I wonder who else is coming?)

───⋅��𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖓𝖊𝖝𝖙 𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖊…⋆⋅☆

#Stand My Heroes #スタンドマイヒーローズ #スタマイ #Sutamai #Translations #Otome #花ざかりのSwallow tail #Swallow Tail in Full Bloom #Asagiri Tsukasa #Sunago Natsuki #Hattori You #Miyase Go #Imaoji Shun #Yamazaki Kaname #Shindo Kiyoshi #Kujo Soma #Kirishima Koya

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charmandhex · 5 years ago

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Master Post Part 3

So tumblr is a massive nuisance and apparently limits the number of links you can put in a post! So this is probably going to get a little recursive; this post will just deal with

Tumblr Writing and The Bonds Between Us

So most of the ficlets I put up on tumblr do not have names, which is gonna make this more challenging, so we’ll see how it goes. The Bonds Between Us is an ao3 fic containing a number of canon compliant ficlets centered around the relationships between characters.

The aforementioned Blupjeans spinoff of Pas de Deux. You think enemies to lovers Taakitz is fun; wait until you see enemies to lovers but still very much enemies right now Blupjeans.

Snow Day. Taako-centric Taakitz fluff with bonus adopted son Ango centered around... a snow day. It should be part of The Bonds Between Us, but apparently is not. I should remedy that.

A Day Off. Blupjeans post canon, just coming off a long day of Reaper shenanigans. It’s pretty fluffy and is in The Bonds Between Us.

What is Left Unsaid. Magnulia, definitely on the angsty side, but I at least think it ends on a happy note. Basically covers first meeting and beyond. Also in The Bonds Between Us; this is going to be a recurring theme.

Sculpture of Flame. SC era Blupjeans pre-Legato. Barry (POV) and Lup go after the Light and shit goes sideways, as it is wont to do. Basically prompted by me thinking Spell Sculpting is the best thing since Fireball. Ditto on The Bonds Between Us; I need an acronym at this point.

Questions and Answers. Ango-centric post canon fun! Basically, people are nosy and ask Angus all the questions, and Taako is basically adopting Angus now. Yes, TBBU.

Fox in the Henhouse. Hurloane! Surprise! Pre-pttm, based around a post (which I linked in a reblog; I don’t want to tag people and subject them to this laundry list.) Basically, Sloane shows up to Hurley’s office. I’m mean and this ends on a fairly angsty, yell-inducing note. TBBU.

The Little Things. Lup-centric fluff, post-canon, centered around her getting her body back. Yes, TBBU.

Takeout in the Astral Plane. Taako POV, about how much Taako loves Kravitz and Taako and Kravitz’s vacation to the Astral Plane. TBBU ficlet.

Scones and Song. Kravitz POV, about how much Kravitz loves Taako. Arguably the counterpart to Takeout in the Astral Plane. TBBU ficlet; are you even surprised at this point?

Cooking Quiche Lorraine. Ren time! Yay Ren! Featuring Ren at Taako’s show and a little bit of her venturing out afterward. There are some Paloma shenanigans, and fuck I forgot how much I love Paloma with a warhammer. TBBU ficlet.

Untitled Lucretia ficlet. Second person POV, centered around the moment she fed her journals to Fisher. It’s more experimental as far as my ficlets go and definitely not TBBU for that reason.

Late Night Research. More Blupjeans pining! Lup POV this time, and Lup finds Barry up sciencing in the middle of the night. TBBU ficlet.

Untitled Taakitz ficlet. This one was inspired from some art by herbgerblin (again, no tagging here, but the art is tagged in the ficlet). Kravitz gets called in the middle of the night, and Taako is groggy but supportive. This one should probably be a TBBU chapter too but isn’t.

Untitled twins ficlet. Going way, WAY back to when the twins were applying into the IPRE mission. Not TBBU, probably will be eventually when I remember to update it again.

Dogs on the Moon. Magnus rushes in! Magnus goes up to talk to Lucretia about a certain infamous policy. Yes, TBBU.

Untitled Lup and Umbra Staff ficlet. Just about how Lup might have come up with the concept for the Umbra Staff. Not a TBBU ficlet.

Pocket pudding fluid mechanics ficlet. Yeah, you read that right. I’m gonna teach you fuckers fluid mechanics whether you like it or not. Taako-centric, majorly sciencey, mildly angsty.

Untitled canon divergent AU part one. Taako inadvertently breaks Lup out of the Umbra Staff early!

Untitled canon divergent AU part two. Lup possesses her brother to start a family reunion! I’m tempted to continue this if there’s interest.

SURPRISE! It’s my one and only Graduation ficlet. Centered around the Firbolg, and it’s nostalgic but sad. Firbolgs live long lives and Druids... Druid.

Redundant master post link.

#charm works #charm master post

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fullmetalscullyy · 5 years ago

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day 14 - rockin’ around the christmas tree - brenda lee

the magic of christmas time - royai advent calender

24 days - 24 oneshots | with angst, fluff, and everything in between | both canon and au

a collection of christmas themed oneshots to celebrate royai | chapter prompts based on my favourite christmas songs

read on ao3

rockin' around the christmas tree

have a happy holiday

everyone dancin' merrily

in the new old-fashioned way

“It’s weird spending Christmas in such a lively place,” Riza murmured in Roy’s ear as they made their way through Chris Mustangs very large home to get to the kitchen. She had to sidestep a few very rowdy children on the way there. “A good weird, though,” she reassured him.

That was what baffled her the most. There were children everywhere. Far more than seemed appropriate for the ratio of adults, but Riza couldn’t be sure. They were dashing around the room, far less concerned about the adults holding drinks in their hands than they should have been. She’d been bumped twice already, but only just managed to salvage the alcohol in her glass.

“I’m glad it’s a good weird,” Roy chuckled, taking her hand and tugging her quickly in the surprisingly quiet kitchen. All the food had been moved through to Chris’ dining room, which was almost the same size as Riza’s house. The woman was rich as hell, and it showed in her house. She’d made a name for herself in her line of work – Riza still wasn’t entirely sure what exactly that was, and at this point, she was too afraid to ask – and had raked in the money. The house wasn’t filled with useless junk that most rich people houses seemed to have in the movies. It was decorated in a way that emitted warmth and comfort – there wasn’t a white marble or tiles floor in sight. It reminded Riza of her own cosy cabin up in the mountains.

“Family is a big thing with my mother,” Roy revealed. “Everyone is here for the holidays, and if they can’t make it for whatever reason, my mother will fix that some way or another.” Roy paused, his face turning grim. “I don’t even want to know what her methods are.”

“To be honest,” Riza replied, glancing over her shoulder to see if her mother-in-law was in earshot. “Neither do I.” The pair shared a quiet laugh together before the woman in question entered her own kitchen.

“There’s far too much hilarity in here,” she commented, but there was a smile on her face. “Riza,” she welcomed, opening her arms. Roy had often commented on how that behaviour was strange for his mother, but Riza wouldn’t complain. He said it must be because she likes Riza so much, which left her feeling so relieved. The last thing she needed was to be on Chris Mustang’s bad side. “Welcome. How have you been?” Chris asked as she hugged her.

“I’ve been well.”

“Keeping this one out of trouble, I hope?” Chris jerked her head towards Roy beside her.

“Of course,” she grinned. “Always.” Roy huffed beside her and her amusement only grew. The teasing between mother and son was always entertaining.

“Good. I look forward to hearing from you again, soon.” Her words were cryptic, and she shot them both a pointed look before she walked away.

“What was that about?” Riza asked, turning to face Roy.

“You don’t think… No.” He shook his head.

“Don’t think what?”

“You don’t think she… knows, do you?”

Riza felt her stomach drop. “Did you say anything to her?” Her accusation was light, but it was still there. Roy had visited his family a few weeks ago and called Riza, drunk. She knew how loose his tongue could get when in the company of his family and while drunk, so she had to ask the question on whether he’d let it slip or not.

“No! I never said a word. I was drunk, yeah, but I remember everything. I definitely never brought it up. In fact, I made a special point not to venture anywhere near the topic.”

Riza wracked her brain, thinking back on the conversations she’d had with members of the family. “I never brought it up either.”

“Over the years I’ve discovered she just has a way of knowing things,” Roy revealed, his mouth pressing into a thin line.

“That’s spooky.”

“Very spooky. Very inconvenient while growing up too.”

Riza snorted. “Yeah, because you were such a hooligan, you had to lie to your mother about where you’d been all night.”

“I did!” he responded indignantly. Then, Roy cast his eyes downwards. “But only because we spent all night at the arcade.” Riza snorted, giggling as she pictured a furious Chris dragging him by his ear back home – that was absolutely something she would have done – because Roy hadn’t called to say he’d be at the arcade for hours.

“You’re such a dork,” Riza grinned, bumping his shoulder with hers. When he lifted his head, she was glad to see his grin matched hers. “Come on.” Riza gripped his hand and lifted her glass of fruit juice. “Let’s go back to the party.”

They were both dragged onto the dance floor – yep, Chris even had room for a dance floor in her living room – and they both giggled, goofed around, and had a great time together.

“Cheese!” someone called, and Riza looped her arms around Roy’s neck, smiling for the camera. One of his arms wrapped around her back, while the other was placed on her stomach.

“Aw, that’s a lovely one guys!” Roy’s sister, Vanessa, crooned as she looked at her phone. Spinning it around, they bother got a look at it and Riza had to agree, it was a lovely photo of them both.

“Can you send me it?” Roy asked before Riza could, already whipping out his own phone.

“Yeah, of course!”

Riza meandered back into the kitchen for a breather and to cool off when she saw Chris at the fridge. Before she could open her mouth, Chris bet her to it.

“So, how far along are you?” she asked casually, as if she was talking about the weather. Riza had no reply, she just stood there and blinked at her mother-in-law, mouth parted slightly in shock. “Oh, come on. It’s obvious.”

“It is?” Riza asked, baffled. She had no idea how.

“You’re not drinking even though you’re not driving anywhere tonight. You two lovebirds have acted even more in love, which I didn’t think was possible, but I’m pleased to see you both so happy. And, after that little dance and photoshoot, Roy put his hand over your stomach rather protectively. That sealed it for me,” she shrugged.

This woman… It was both eery and impressive at the same time.

“Four months,” Riza smiled, placing her hand over her tiny bump. “We wanted to tell you sooner, but both wanted to be here to do it.”

Chris waved away her apology. “Don’t worry about that,” she reassured Riza, pulling her into a crushing hug. Riza was enveloped by the smell of perfume and cigarette smoke. The combination made her choke in the beginning, but now it was a comfort. Chris Mustang was the closest person Riza had to a mother figure, so the smell meant family and home. “Congratulations, Riza. I can’t wait to meet my grandchild.”

Riza gripped her tighter, feeling tears springing to her eyes.

“What’s going on?” Roy asked, his grin still on his face, cheeks pink from the dancing and excitement twinkling in his eyes. It fizzled out quickly though, because Chris shot him The Look. His expression turned from “yay!” to “oh shit, what have I done?” in the span of a second.

Chris pulled away and winked subtly at Riza before turning her attention to her son. “Just when were you going to tell me about my grandchild?” she asked, hands on her hips.

“I knew you knew about it!” he exclaimed. “Damn, and we wanted it to be a surprise.”

“It is a surprise. It’s a massive surprise.” Chris stopped, and both were horrified to see her face screwing up as tears collected in her eyes. Roy stared at her, alarmed, before rushing forward to comfort his mother. “I’m going to be a grandmother,” she whispered before pulling Roy in for a fierce hug. Over Chris’ shoulder, Riza watched as he grimaced at the pressure on his spine, but his arms wrapped around his mother’s frame regardless. Riza beamed at him, pleased that they’d managed to get this kind of reaction from her.

To be honest, both had no idea how Chris would react to the news they were pregnant. Riza knew she’d be happy, but the woman had a funny way of showing happiness. Riza thought there might be a quick congratulations, a quick hug, then move on. It made her happy to have made Chris so happy like this.

Roy grinned back at her, then grimaced again as his mother squeezed him tightly in her hug.

“Yeah, you’re going to be a grandmother,” he stated, his eyes finding Riza’s once more. They were filled with so much love and excitement for the future, that Riza almost cried there herself.

She couldn’t wait.

#royai #royai fic #royai fanfic #royai advent calendar #the magic of christmas time #emma writes

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youknowmymethods · 6 years ago

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Content Creator Interview #11

Hello folks and happy Friday! We’re back, and this time @likingthistoomuch interviews @ohaine (aka, me) so I’m jumping straight into the interview because it’s awkward af to introduce yourself.

Trigger warnings: here be brief discussions of grief and mourning, and because it’s me, there’s also some bad language. Sorry.

OhAine: She arts, she fics, now you can add witty limericks to her repertoire for she is truly an accomplished young lady; because when the question of how to introduce me for this interview came up likingthistoomuch chose to write a poem.

It goes like this:

She is smart

She has sass

Thinks her writing isn’t good

Someone get her head outta her ass.

Charming. And as that isn’t massively helpful to anyone reading, I’ll flesh it out a bit for you. My name is Áine (yes, my pseud is that imaginative), I’m Irish, married to a tall, curly haired Brit (no, not *that* tall, curly haired Brit). I’m a professional doer of double entry (that means I’m an accountant not a p0rn star, get your dirty minds out of the gutter), an amateur writer who is obsessed with Sherlock and Sherlolly to a point that isn’t dignified. I’m the mod of this interview project, and also of the MaybeItsJustMyType Collection on AO3, a double SAMFA winner (yay me!) and I also won a Community Games gold medal when I was eight ( @hobbitsdoitbetter will know what that is, but she’s literally the only one of you who will) for a picture I drew in crayon of a cat jumping over a skipping rope (although if I’m honest I think everyone who entered the competition got a prize so I really don’t know if I should brag too much about it.) Currently I’m in the market for someone who’ll do a better job of my eulogy than I’ve done with this intro, so maybe it’s best if I stop talking now and we just move along with the questions… Ahem… Gee it’s back to you.

likingthistoomuch: I’m going to start with Kat (aka satin_doll, aka @ashockinglackofsatin) who’s submitted a few reader questions if you’re ready.

OhAine: Sure. Shoot.

satin_doll: The Fate of Glass is one of the most beautiful and touching stories I’ve ever read dealing with grief and the aftermath of the death of a character. It also illustrates perfectly Molly’s relationship with Sherlock from her side. We know you were dealing with your own loss when this was written. How much of your writing springs from your own real life emotional experiences?

OhAine: Well first, thank you dear heart. It’s a tricky question to answer because The Fate of Glass is unique for me. I wrote it and ‘Where the Lost Things Go’ in the same two week period, at a time when I was really struggling to accept what had happened to Kieren. Funnily enough, Gee (likingthistoomuch) and I were talking only a few weeks ago, and I told her this: for the only time I can ever remember doing, I put my words into Sherlock’s mouth. The bit where they’re sitting on the floor, smoking and talking about Mrs H, where Sherlock finally says what’s on his mind – that he’d failed her – was exactly what I felt at that moment about Kiki’s death. I drew on something deeply personal in a way I hadn’t done since ‘Take me and erase me’ and the death of Molly and Sherlock’s son. Initially that story was me working through my feelings and grief, but after the first draft I had to abandon that agenda and remember that this was about Sherlock and Molly now. The real life experience of survivor’s guilt, of losing someone you love was there, but oddly Molly’s rebuttal to Sherlock’s assertions about blame were very much me too, they came from my father’s loss, and that reconciling a terrible end with a life well lived and full of love. Of all my stories, it’s the closest to describing my actual experience in a given context.

I suppose in the first instance, what you write has be honest, authentic. That doesn’t mean that it has to come from your experience directly, but if you have the framework there for something that you want to say, then you use it. There are small bits of me in all of my stories, but I can’t rely on my own emotional experiences too heavily because then I’m limiting the characters. What I’ve found you can do is take the essence of an emotion, distil it down to its component parts and feelings, and then apply them to a different situation. Your job when writing a story is to tell someone else’s story, so you have to be able to extrapolate beyond your own experiences. But if you can ground that in something real, it somehow gives it a ring of truth that wouldn’t otherwise be there.

satin_doll: Amor Vincit Omnia is quite simply devastatingly beautiful, despite the pain that runs through it from beginning to end. You’re so adept at writing Molly’s steadfastness and loyalty despite Sherlock’s rough treatment of her over the years and it seems to be a recurrent theme in your stories. Can you talk a little about where this picture of Molly comes from, how she developed as a character in your head?

OhAine: We get so little of Molly on screen, and in a way that’s a blessing: we have so much room for interpretation, so many directions we can take her in, you know? But something Mofftiss have gone to pains to point out is that not only is Molly loyal to the bone, but that Sherlock trusts her loyalty in a way that he doesn’t trust anyone else’s.

You have to be careful how you allow her to give that loyalty, it can’t be done in a way that demeans her, or would make her bitter. In order for that not to happen you have to imagine why someone would give so much in the face of – what you termed – rough treatment. I’ve come to the conclusion that although she’s sometimes hurt by it, impatient with it, she views his actions not as intentional, but rather as him simply not knowing how to do things any differently. He’s ever so gentle with her in TEH, when no one else is around to see, and that episode informs so much of what I imagine their between-the-scenes life to be like: he shows respect for her, love, affection, he respects her mind, her opinions, he is eternally grateful for all that she has done for him, and grateful that despite everything he’s done she still allows him to call her friend.

Sherlock asks in TRF, ‘If I wasn’t everything you think I am, everything that I think I am, would you still want to help me?’ and Molly doesn’t hesitate, she’s straight in with ‘What do you need?’ She has zero doubts about the man that he is.

Earlier in that episode she says, ‘You’re a bit like my dad,’ going on to tell Sherlock about how her dad behaved when he was dying, and I think that’s a very under rated line. I think it shows that to Molly he’s more than – what other’s call him – the great detective, machine, freak. It shows she sees the man beneath. She sees that he is more than the sum of his parts. She’s telling him that she sees his humanity.

She doesn’t want to change him into someone he’s not. She sees deeper, she sees the bits of him that he guards, the parts of him that are just like you and me. Molly’s not blinded by his brilliance. To her he’s just a man, albeit one who has a very special gift.

Even when she says ‘Why do you always say such horrible things?’ she’s not treating him like a bold puppy and smacking him on the nose with a rolled up newspaper like the others do, she’s attempting to understand him, perhaps even asking him to try to understand himself.

He’s a very vulnerable man, and she treats him with care because of that. His actions weigh on her I think, they have a cost, but it’s one she chooses to accept and she doesn’t punish him for her choice.

It can be argued that Molly is the only one who loves him just for him. Lestrade wants his brain; Mycroft sees him as an asset; John is a junkie, Sherlock his dealer; Mary takes his help; Hudders once took help from him. But amongst those who take, there’s only one person who takes nothing. Molly.

I suppose the other large part of her development in my mind is the ethical code that she’s had instilled into her from an early stage of her education. Medical ethics, and the application of deontological and utilitarian principles in her everyday decision making, must have influenced the person she became by the time we meet her. There are four major principles at play for her: do good, avoid doing harm, be fair, and respect individual autonomy. And I think it’s those principles of fairness and respect that she applies to her relationship with Sherlock. I think she respects his mind, his abilities, even his education (because they have components of their formal education in common), but I think it’s fairness that she applies most liberally: he is unique, different, and he lacks certain skills when it comes to interacting with others, Molly takes his treatment of her in that context.

satin_doll: In Take Me and Erase Me, one of your earliest stories, you mention Lorca (the Spanish poet) and you’ve made numerous references to poetry since you started posting fics. What else besides poetry and fanfic do you read these days? What do you see as the biggest influences on your writing?

OhAine: Biggest influences. Honestly? Stephen (both of the King and Moffat varieties) have said that the best advice they could give aspiring writers was to read as much as you can of the kind of thing you want to write, and I’ve found that to be so true. The Sustain Stories are probably the single biggest influence on my interpretation of Sherlock and Molly. I remember saying it to someone once (I think it was actually you Kat) that I’ve been writing Sustain fanfiction rather than Sherlock fanfiction all these years. It was that big a deal for me.

As for what I’m reading now… I always have a few books on the go, currently open are Leonard Cohen’s Book of Longing (Jesus, the raw intensity of his imagery), Tom Robbins’ Even Cowgirls Get the Blues (the absurdity of it appeals to me) and James Joyce’s Dubliners (The Dead is my favourite short story ever, so I finally decided to read the rest of the book).

Thank you Kat for your lovely questions x

likingthistoomuch: Going all the way back to the beginning, what prompted you to start writing fanfic in the first place? Where did that first impulse come from?

OhAine: I’d never heard of fanfic until I became obsessed by Sherlock, but once I found it, it was like falling down a rabbit hole. I read. And I read and I read and I read. When I first found Sherlolly in mid-2014 there were about 3,000 stories in the tag on AO3 and I went about systematically reading them all in descending order from the largest hit. It took me about six months or so to get through them and then I hit a wall, there was nothing left to read. But by then I started seeing Sherlolly everywhere: in every song I heard, every poem I read… and at the time I was living away from home while doing a master’s degree, and I remember so clearly driving back to my little flat outside Galway one night after a late lecture and Lana del Rey’s Young and Beautiful came on the radio, and it was like, BANG!, this fully formed story of an insecure Sherlock hit me. It was so clear, so well defined and complete, and it wouldn’t leave me alone. The end result was Saving for a rainy day, and the other two stories in The Dance series.

Honourable mention too at this point to @sundance201 and her beautiful fic Hello My Old Heart. That story was the beginning of my love affair with music in fanfiction, I started my Sherlolly playlist with the song it references and I don’t know if I would have ever made the connection between music and writing without it. So blame Sundance201 :P

Likingthistoomuch: When you wrote your first fic how did that process go? Did you have someone review the work? Also, when did you share the fact that you had attempted fanfiction with someone around you?

OhAine: As above. No, it was a type and go thing. Literally. I have no idea what madness overtook me to actually post it on the internet where other real live people would see it. It was (still is) full of mistakes, and reads like an outline rather than an actual story, but I knew no better at the time. It was the first piece of fiction I’d ever written, and I had zero expectations that anyone would read it. I bawled like a baby when the first comment came in.

Anyway, it was a Sunday morning, and I was staying at Uni that weekend because I had exams the following week, hubby was coming that day to see me and make sure I hadn’t died under a pile of textbooks and fast-food containers. When he arrived I showed him the post on AO3, and he was so sweet. He still reads all of my fics, gives me feedback and suggestions. He’s even got an AO3 account now so that he can leave kudos. Bless him. He’s still the only one I share with.

Likingthistoomuch: You are amongst the few who seem to write comic themed, angsty, fluff as well as explicit with ease. At least that’s how it comes across. Which genre is the easiest for you and which one would you prefer to write as, say an outlet for real life pressures?

OhAine: I’m shocked that it comes across that way, because writing doesn’t come easily for me at all. I’m not a writer, I’m an auditor who writes when she has time. Every single word is like squeezing that last bit of toothpaste from the tube, and although I’m a very verbal person words are not my strong point. My vocabulary is technical and that’s fine when I’m writing reports and letters for work, but I don’t have an emotional vocabulary so I have to work really hard at finding the words to describe the feelings I want to write. And I’m not a fluffy person so writing anything sweet is like pulling teeth for me. None of it’s easy, but Molly and Sherlock are in my bones now so I keep doing it.

I suppose comedy and angst are slightly less of a struggle. But comedy is a tricky one, because you’re either in the right frame of mind to write it or you’re not. It can’t be forced, you can’t make something funny if it’s not.

I don’t have a favourite genre, and none of them come naturally, but if it’s a question of what’s an outlet, then I’d say all of them serve an equal purpose, although the most satisfying to get right is definitely angst, even if it’s a rare jewel. I think I’ve only ever managed to get it almost right twice, maybe three times: Amor Vincit Omnia, The Fate of Glass and possibly A Sunset Bird in Winter. I kind of hold those three up as times when I was happy with the finished product.

Likingthistoomuch: How do you plan out your work? Do you plan the end, the beginning and what’s in the middle before you start posting?

OhAine: Bold of you to assume I plan!!!!

The beauty of writing (mostly) one-shots is that you’re presenting a finished piece. I’ve written just one multi, Take me and erase me, and that was done completely on the fly. I was so traumatised by the whole thing that I’ve been put off for life.

When it comes to the one-shots, I usually have a pretty good idea what the beginning, middle and end are before I begin – even if the end result turns out to be something else entirely. I do a first draft, then revise, revise, revise until the flow feels good and I think I’m saying what it is I set out to say.

Likingthistoomuch: You work with a beta - do you share the entire plot of your fic and discuss before you start the writing process? How does that work?

OhAine: It works differently with different people. When Kiki and I worked together, every detail was shared and there were masses of emails over and back discussing plot and structure. A three thousand word doc could come back with fifteen hundred extra words of notes. She had an opinion about everything. It worked because we were each other’s beta, and we’d built up a rapport and trust. She was never afraid to offend me and I loved that about her. She was also very verbal, so feedback was always detailed, she’d be very clear about the whys of it. We were both new, both learning, so that extra communication was great to get. And I genuinely miss being a beta for her.

Kat on the other hand has a light touch approach, she gives me a far longer leash and lets me express myself – just myself and my ideas. If I have a specific concern I’ll share that with her, and she’ll give me advice and her opinion. What I tend to share with Kat is what I’m hoping to achieve, and she’ll let me know if, in her opinion, I’ve done what I set out to do. She trusts me more as a writer, if you know what I mean.

likingthistoomuch: I am heavily influenced by Bollywood songs and get one shot ideas by the ton. Kat mentioned your love of poetry, and I wondered has there been a poem that literally made you wanna rush home and write down stuff as soon as possible?

OhAine: Oh that was Where The Lost Things Go, by Anne Casey. She wrote an entire book of poetry about loss (in particular losing her mother) and it makes for a devastating read. When I heard her recite that poem:

“We sat upon a golden bow, my little bird and I, indivisibly apart, we dived into the sky. And to the purple-hearted dark, an ocean we did cry, for all the lost things gathered there, in rooms beyond the eye.”

I could see Sherlock and his little bird crying for the things they’ve lost, things hidden in secret places. I’d had the image for ages and ages of a little girl coming to Sherlock with a case, but the story that went with it never presented itself. Stories are like that sometimes, bits of them linger until the right structure comes to you. The fic came out in one draft, I did minor revisions later, but it was just this one thing all of its own from the start. And it was sort of the poem coming to me at a time when I was grieving too, and it fitted so well with this image I had of Watson in her big boots and pink hair. Everything coalesced into a coherent story. The end result was my own ‘Where the lost things go.’

Generally that isn’t how it works for me. I usually take away just an image or a phrase, sometimes just a feeling, and I try to structure something around it. But like you, I get a lot from music (Elbow’s music could be the official soundtrack of Sherlolly) and movies as well as poems

Likingthistoomuch: Let’s be honest here, you get tons of reviews. I know, I read most of them (turn down that stalker alarm!!!). Has your story ever been influenced by a comment given on the initial chapters of a multi fic? Not the plot per say, but maybe a small scene or interaction?

OhAine: No, I really don’t think so. But then there’s really only ever been one multi of any real significance, Take me and erase me, and the initial chapters of that got very few comments, or even hits for that matter (chapter one got 17 hits on its first day, but I stuck with it and it did okay in the end). What does happen with comments is they encourage me to keep going, to keep writing, especially when I feel like I’m just rubbish at this. I’ve been blessed with people who are generous and kind when it comes to egging me on and making me feel okay about what I’ve written. I tend to be very sure about where I want to go when I write something, and I think that if you allow things to intrude on the picture you have in your mind you run the risk of ending up with something that’s a bit all over the place. The reader you write for is you, and you either live or die by it.

Likingthistoomuch: In your fic “The Pinch Hitter” (I absolutely love the Simple Chemistry series) there is dialogue that has the potential to turn the fic any way you want:

“I don’t want you because I’m lonely, you little moron.” He shouts, full to breaking point with impotent frustration and clawing at his own hair. "I'm lonely because I want you!"

Funny and yet heart wrenchingly raw. Did you work specifically on introducing something like that, which can be a palate changer for a moment?

OhAine: Oh boy, tough question. Short answer is no, I wasn’t looking specifically for that line. The prompt for this fic came to me by way of a pinch hitter assignment in the 2017 Sherlolly Fic exchange, and I had about four days to come up with a story that fitted the brief. I work at a snail’s pace under normal circumstances, and I was under so much pressure to get something done. I’d pissed away three of the four days on a fic that I couldn’t make work (still can’t, *sigh*) and in desperation I turned to the next prompt on the list of four. In the end this one just came out, and I’m lucky it’s as okay as it is given the rush it was written in. That line: if I recall, it came out of some wanky meta that was doing the rounds at the time, the mirror theory, and I guess that line is my response to it. He wasn’t running to her because she was a surrogate, she, Molly, was the reason he ran to Molly.

On the other hand, that line is very much part of my overall head canon for Sherlock in the series. He’s the cause of his own isolation and I remember either Moffat or Gatiss saying that he was like a child pressed up against a sweet shop, window, longing. I see him very much that way. He doesn’t make friends because he’s lonely – the loneliness is part of the choices he’s made – but he acutely feels loneliness now because he finally understands friendship and love. Does that make sense??

I don’t seem to be able to do straight comedy, there’s always a little angst with my absurdity, a little absurdity with my angst. Some of that is to do with wanting to introduce contrast, some of it is because I think the show does that too and when I’m writing, to some extent, I’m trying to emulate that style.

Likingthistoomuch: On the topic of light works or ones with a comedic thread, you seem to have mastered the tough-as-nails art of writing genuinely funny work which is not slapstick by a mile. Is the writing process for that different than your other works?

OhAine: It is. Totally. I can’t decide to write something funny. It either is or it isn’t, and I don’t have much control over that. No amount of revisions will make something that’s not funny work as a comedy piece. I tried that once with The Truth Will Set You Free, and I think it was 20+ drafts before it started to get giggles from my beta. That was when I realised that trying to be funny wouldn’t work. Kiki said to me after that one was posted that she thought I was rubbish at comedy, which was strange given how often I made her laugh in my emails. It dawned on me then to just be myself, write in a more naturalistic tone and focus on being absurd instead of laugh out loud slapstick.

The next one I tried my hand at was The Adventure of the Berenstein Baby. I took a different approach and wrote it as though I was telling a friend about something hubs and I did, using the exact same style I’d use in conversations (like the side bar thing, my emails are famous for them, I go off on so many tangents) and the result was one draft with minor revisions to get the finished product. When that fic won the 2017 SAMFA for humour, I almost died of pride.

Likingthistoomuch: The Fate of Glass, that letter, that fabulous, fabulous, piece of work. How long did you take you write that?

OhAine: The first draft contained all the bones of the story, it was 1,700 words long and it came out in one afternoon. The letter was there right from the start, always at the end. The rest needed much more work, I think I added another 2,000 words during revisions. I have a memory of it being an easy one to write, but I had a week off work that January, and I know I spent at least another 40 hours picking at it during my leave. It had the story right off the bat, but none of the detail. My vocabulary isn’t what I’d like it to be, so when I feel I don’t have the words to tell a story I read. I had an anthology of Pablo Neruda’s poetry on the arm of my Queen Anne, and every night I’d read for an hour or so, and the next day I’d have the words I needed. Reading, for me, is sort of an ignition tool, it sort of opens that part of my brain that isn’t bogged down with technical language, it opens up my creative side. I sometimes forget just how many revisions even the easy stories take. I forget sometimes that I have to work hard at it, but I do.

Likingthistoomuch: When it comes to naming you work, how do you plan that out?

OhAine: More bold assumptions about planning!!!!

Sometimes a story has an obvious title, like The Science of Seduction (because it was about the application of mathematical theories to love and relationships, so it just seemed obvious). Others, like Better, or The last person you’d think of, they were obvious because the whole story is geared toward making the point that these phrases represent. When I find a name I want to use I do an AO3 search of the Sherlock/Molly tag just to be sure no one else is using it (or has used it for a very long time).

Names are something I struggle with, and at the beginning I went almost exclusively with lines from songs, but I’ve stopped doing that now because it felt, I don’t know, a little forced? These days I try to make a stronger connection between the story and the title without making it too wordy or over explaining what’s going on in the story. I often have a placeholder title while I’m working on it, but keep trying out new ones as I go to see how they fit.

Don’t ever underestimate the power of a good title: along with the summary they’re your elevator pitch to the reader. A brilliant story can be sunk by a bland title or bland summary.

Likingthistoomuch: How do you gauge the success of your work?

OhAine: Oh jeepers. I’m a numbers girl, so the stats page on my AO3 account is my enemy LOL. I’ve tried to find my own metrics, because it’s easy to fall into the trap of judging success on hits and kudos when there are so many things that can influence those little numbers. Like, Trial by Existence was a failure if you go by the stats, but I still feel in my gut that it’s a strong fic, and I learned so much about writing from it. Anyway. There’s a bunch of things I ask myself during the inevitable post-mortem: first and foremost, did I say what I wanted to say? Did I convey the message that I was attempting to put out there? But then I also consider was the quality up to standard, did I build on my learning from the last thing that I wrote? If it’s a gift work, did I please the person it was gifted to? In terms of grammar and punctuation, phrasing (none of which are my strong suit) have I improved? And though I never set out meaning to, I start to fret about the stats…

But I also think that if someone has said in the comments that they’d love to see more of this particular story, then you’ve succeeded in making something that someone else connected with. That’s always a really important metric for me.

Likingthistoomuch: Coming to the topic of Social Media, what effect does that have on your work? Have you ever faced rude reviews or comments or called out for offending people? Because we know, if you log in, someone somewhere is offended.

OhAine: And I specialise in offending people LOL it’s why I stay off social media for the most part.

Everyone gets the odd rude comment, I think. It’s the risk you sign on for when you put something out into a public space. I try hard not to take those personally.

It seems to me people are looking for a fight and they don’t care what it’s about. I’ve come to the conclusion that no matter how convinced I am of my position or opinion, if there’s even a hint of aggression I walk away because to engage with them is just giving them what they want. Don’t add fuel to the fire, you know? And it’s not my job to educate. It just isn’t. So I do what’s healthy for me, and I avoid the nonsense even when I know I’m right and they’re not. I don’t need to explain myself to strangers.

Having those things said, I wouldn’t trade away the positives of social media just to be rid of the negatives. I’ve found fantastic friends on sites like AO3 and tumblr, I get so much from our little community and the lovely people in it. I suppose the Sherlolly community is lucky: we’re small, able to self-regulate, and the people here are genuine and kind. I’ve learned so much, gotten so much joy from writing, so much from reading, the beautiful artwork that’s posted here, and my fellow shippers… I’m grateful for that, so that’s where I keep my focus.

Likingthistoomuch: As per the new guideline, the blue hellsite will not allow explicit work to be posted. Does that make you want to write more E rated stuff, in a virtual Up Yours to Staff?

OhAine: I gave up on writing E-rated fics two years ago, and I suppose I am kind of sad that I don’t anymore because I would dearly love to say to anyone who tries to censor others to go fuck themselves.

On the one hand, the ban doesn’t really affect me because I don’t create that kind of content anymore, so I could just be tempted to shrug my shoulders and move on. But. It affects others who do create that kind of content, and I’ll support them all the way, not only because they should be allowed freedom of expression, but also because the purge is part of a bigger problem: the suppression of freedoms, under the guise of protecting the innocent, and is driven by a puritanical streak that’s becoming pervasive in our culture, one that is more about control and suppression of free ideas than protection. Tumblr is lying to us, pure and simple. They could deal with the p0rn problem but they don’t, and therefore you have to assume this isn’t about p0rnbots: this is about commercial considerations, and the suppression of creativity that they can’t commercialise. It’s also very telling that the ban is overly focused on the female body (and I can’t help but feel that because a good percentage of content creators are women, that the purge conveniently silences women’s voices) and the ideal of womanhood held by a very narrow band of its user base.

Historically, censorship (and that is what this is) doesn’t lead us anywhere good. It’s a slippery slope, folks. We’ve got to be careful, or next thing you know we’ll be in red capes and white hats remembering the good old days when women were allowed to read.

likingthistoomuch: Last question: If you could change just one thing about BBC’s version of Sherlock, what would it be?

OhAine: Oh dear. Just one??? Okay, let me discount a few contenders first:

I would ask that there be more Molly. Lots more Molly. That the kiss had been real. That Sherlock be naked at all times. That the shirts were tighter and the curls longer. That Mary had lived. That Holmes got the Watson he deserved. That Moriarty had lived. That Eurus hadn’t. That Paul McGuigan had stuck around. Ditto Stephen Thompson. That they had kept production values at primetime and not Saturday tea-time CBBC levels. That the production staff hadn’t stirred the shit just because they liked the attention. That Mofftiss had had a beta, or at least someone who challenged their ideas…

But if I could choose just one thing, one thing that would be possible for them to do and not go off at a tangent, then I would have them stick to the cases. Tell the story they were telling at the start: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes, as told by his Boswell. I’ll be forever sad that they chose not to do that.

Next week, Friday 10th of May, part two of this interview turns the tables and @ohaine interviews @likingthistoomuch.

#content creator interviews #Sherlock #sherlolly #likingthistoomuch #ohaine #tw: discussion of grief and mourning #tw: mild profanity

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eggoreviews · 6 years ago

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Nintendo Direct Feb 2019 BREAKDOWN

So, that direct was pretty okay right? If you missed it or even if you didn’t, I’m gonna be taking a look at everything announced and giving it a vague excitement rating! Enjoy!

Super Mario Maker 2

This was a pretty great way to kick off this direct. With the promise of a host of new features coming in this entry to build upon the first, including the introduction of slopes (finally) and a new texture pack based on Mario 3D World, I reckon this is definitely one to mark in the calendar. Mario Maker 2 is slated for a, gratefully soon, June 2019 release.

Excitement Rating: YEEHAW

Marvel Ultimate Alliance 3: The Black Order

The long awaited third entry in the MUA series, to the surprise of many, is in fact a Switch exclusive. For those who don’t know, this is a hack-and-slash fighting game, of course tied heavily to Marvel comics. This entry seems to be riding in off the back of Infinity War, with Thanos and the Black Order showcased as central villains. Honestly, this game looks like it could be fun, especially with friends, though I don’t think it’ll turn out to be anything special.

ER: Sure, why not!

BOX BOY! + BOX GIRL!

This adorable little puzzle platformer is making its debut on Switch this spring, with the promise of local multiplayer and more levels than ever before. Looks to be a goodun for fans of cute, minimalist art design and box-based puzzles and the like.

ER: Cool! Those boxes can move!

Super Smash Bros. Ultimate - Ver. 3.0

Nintendo sort of slapped us in the face with a lovely, welcome announcement of a new Smash update! Oh boy! New features! And then they turn around and say they aren’t gonna tell us what they are.

Oh.

Kind of makes me question the point of putting this in the direct a little, but I’m sure whatever they’ll add will be cool! On top of that, a tentative release window for Joker was given (before the end of April this year) and we got a cheeky look at some of the new spicy amiibos, being Snake, Simon and the Pokemon Trainer lot.

ER: Yay?

Captain Toad Treasure Tracker Updates

Here’s one that definitely caught me offguard, but I’m more than happy with it considering I just picked up the game. Part of the new Captain Toad content is free, adding in proper 2 player co-op where you can both play as Toad. The paid ‘special episode’ stuff struck me as a little odd, considering this game was already a Wii U port that’s now getting even more paid DLC. Regardless, it’s not too pricey and you can even pick up the first DLC course now, with the rest coming March 14.

ER: That’s cool!

Bloodstained: Ritual of the Night

This not-quite-Castlevania game could easily be mistaken for a knock off of that franchise, but seems to have some defining elements of its own. The art style is bold enough to make it unique and the game seems to have an interesting variety of puzzles and side quests to make this more than just a run of the mill 2D platformer. An obvious choice for those with a Castlevania shaped hole in their hearts.

ER: You go bouncy vampire lady

Dragon Quest Builders 2

What is basically just Dragon Quest Minecraft with a story mode apparently, this oddly charming sandbox game was seemingly popular enough to warrant a sequel. And I won’t lie to you, it got me a little excited. As a fan of Dragon Quest its art style and general building-ness, I think I might have to pick this one up. And it’s got a cool retro map!

ER: I’m not excited, you are

Dragon Quest XI S: Echoes of an Elusive Age: Definitive Edition

In case you hadn’t guessed, I literally adore Dragon Quest. The bright colours, the developed characters, the expansive world, awesome monster designs, great soundtrack and lame sense of humour, it all just gets me. It just sort of sucks I already own this on the PS4, where I can’t access all this new content. Oof. But yeah, pick this up if you can. You won’t regret it if you’re a JRPG fan.

ER: More like echoes of an exclusive age amirite

Disney Tsum Tsum Festival

Oh.

I won’t lie to you right now, nothing screams ‘soulless’ to me more than small Disney plushes with all the personality taken from them being stuck into totally random minigames. Don’t get me wrong, I love Disney (mostly through Kingdom Hearts but that’s besides the point) but I don’t think this elicited much excitement in anyone.

ER: I guess this exists, huh?

Starlink: Battle for Atlas - Spring Update

This was another one that surprised me. Considering how mind meltingly badly Starlink bombed, partly down to its odd reliance on the whole ‘toys to life’ craze that died out in 2013, I really didn’t think there’d be any further support for the game and they’d just sort of slip it under the rug. But nope, we’ve got some more Switch exclusive missions involving some more Star Fox characters, as well as the introduction of Wolf’s buddies. Honestly, I think Nintendo needs to do themselves a favour and just release a new Star Fox game.

ER: Great, if for some reason you bought this!

Rune Factory 4 Special & Rune Factory 5

Here’s a series I’d literally never heard of until last Wednesday, but the only way I can describe it from what I’ve seen is it looks to be a cross between Animal Crossing and kind of also Dragon Quest. You cook stuff, you farm stuff, you fight things and you can get married if you want, so definitely cool if you’re a fan of the series. But also cool if you’re someone who wished Animal Crossing was a bit more JRPG. Alongside the announcement of a remastered Rune Factory 4 later this year, as well as confirmation of Rune Factory 5 sometime in the future.

ER: Cool! Plants and stuff!

Oninaki

An action RPG with an intriguing premise and a rich, dark colour scheme, Oninaki seems very eager to set itself apart from other JRPGs on the market and still manages to stand out just a bit, even in a direct that’s basically been packed with JRPGs. Oninaki explores themes of reincarnation and grief, following the story of one grey-haired dude saving lost souls from a place called the Upside Down the Beyond to stop them from turning into monsters. Another one to add to the list if you like edgy RPGs!

ER: Edgy and cool

Yoshi’s Crafted World

Another update for this adorably cardboard entry into the long running Yoshi series, we’re finally getting close to actually being able to play it. Nintendo showcased some of the more interesting variants of gameplay, with the use of rafts, cars and planes definitely making this seem that there’s some substance here to go with the style. Alongside this, a demo released on the eshop so go play that if you haven’t already and decide if it’s for you!

ER: Wow, this game has a Labo costume! I’ll definitely grind for that!

Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Finally some more info about Nintendo’s latest instalment in their anime Game of Thrones series Fire Emblem, we got a big ol infodump about some of the stuff to do with the game. While the video itself will explain everything better than I can, this time players will be able to interact with three kingdoms and three main protagonists, all of this centralising around one academy the game is set within. Overall, this game certainly looks interesting to play, but one I’m not quite sure I’ll be picking up just yet. Basically, if you’re unfamiliar with the games but love a tactical RPG, this one is a no brainer.

ER: Edelgard’s design is pretty cool. If one of them has to get into Smash, I hope it’s her.

Tetris 99

The game many have been calling Tetris Battle Royale, this is the very first Nintendo Switch Online exclusive offering and it’s totally free if you’re a member. It’s Tetris and you have to win against 98 other people, also playing Tetris. Nice!

ER: Tetris block for Smash

Dead by Daylight

As a game I got for free through Playstation Plus, it should be fairly obvious that this port isn’t one that excites me greatly, especially after seeing the quality of the graphics in the trailer the direct showed us. While the concept of an online match with several survivors and one killer sounds good on paper, it seems as if the quality of this port may leave a lot to be desired. But still, this could still only be early development footage and we really have no idea how it’ll look by the end.

ER: Tentative

Deltarune

Undertale is one of my favourite games of all time, so of course it excited me to find out I’d finally be able to play the sort of sequel, Deltarune, which Toby Fox has taken in the interesting direction of splitting the game into chapters. The first of these chapters will be free (yay I like free) and it certainly seems like the same abstract sense of humour and charm present in Undertale has been carried over to this sequel. Definitely one to watch.

ER: Always excited about cartoon doggo

Daemon X Machina

This mech-fighter has been floating around in various Nintendo directs for a fair while now and it’s encouraging to see the game come close to release. In a commendable move, the producer of the game has offered a free demo of the game allowing you to pilot your own custom mech and experience a boss battle in the demo known as ‘Prototype Missions’. The aim of this to gain feedback from potential players in order to make the game as good as it can be, which is amazing! It’s honestly a bit of a dream world where every game developer and publisher is as open and transparent as these guys, so kudos to them. As well as this, the game looks pretty heckin’ fun so it’s definitely worth picking up the demo off the eshop and giving these guys your feedback!

ER: Big ol’ robots hell yeah

GRID Autosport

As of yet, the Switch has lacked a realistic racing game. Enter Grid Autosport, which seems to be packed with a variety of cars, tracks and game modes, including all DLC from the original release of the game. Not one for me, but I’m sure there’s plenty of Switch owners out there whose racing fix isn’t quite satisfied by Mario Kart.

ER: V big if ur a car person

Hellblade: Senua’s Sacrifice

This game was notably created in collaboration with neurologists and those who experience psychosis in order to properly portray the main character and her mental health struggles. Following the quest of Senua as she fights to save the soul of her dead lover, this game created a huge wave through the industry when it first launched and won major awards for its artistic design and performance. While this isn’t one I’ve had the chance to try yet, it certainly looks as if it provides a brilliant, emotional experience from beginning to end.

ER: A lot

Mortal Kombat 11

This was one everyone basically already knew about, but this direct gave us a reminder of the release date and various features such as custom characters. For fans of this long running, brutal fighting game, get April 23 in ur brains.

ER: Cool

Unravel Two

This adorable puzzle platformer sees you and, optionally, a friend take control of two little creatures made of yarn as they navigate a colourful world and help each other pass various obstacles. For those fans of platformers like the Yoshi series, Unravel is definitely one to consider.

ER: Cool

Assassin’s Creed III Remastered

This is the iconic stealth fighting series Assassin’s Creed’s first outing on Switch, but if this footage is anything to go by, it’s not looking brilliant. While this once again could be put down to unfinished development, the first look at a game is often the most important, and a slow frame rate shown during the direct could mean this game isn’t what fans want it to be.

ER: Tentative

Final Fantasy Release Dates

For fans of the legendary and slightly intimidating JRPG series, several games in the series both new and old will be coming to the Switch in 2019:

Final Fantasy VII on March 26th

Chocobo’s Mystery Dungeon EVERY BUDDY! on March 20th

Final Fantasy IX is out now!

ER: Cloud is my favourite twink

Astral Chain

Admittedly, at a first glance, this title in a brand new franchise didn’t particularly excite me. But after having another look, I can definitely see where all the hype is coming from. This looks to be a hack-and-slash sort of action RPG with all the edgy story elements and setpieces of that ever so popular steampunk genre that players seem to love these days. With all these mechs, explosions and edgy voiceovers, it makes me think that Xenoblade Chronicles and Deus Ex had some kind of torrid love affair. On top of this, with a dev team that has Bayonetta, The Wonderful 101 and NieR: Automata under their belt, this is a game that will almost certainly impress when it finally comes out on August 30. Platinum Games might just have another winner here.

ER: Big yes

The Legend of Zelda: Link’s Awakening

oKAY, let’s be real, this is the one that really knocked it out of the park. At least for me it did. As the final reveal, this made me scream a little tiny bit. I think we’d all heard the rumours of a 2D Zelda coming to Switch, but I was highly skeptical to say the least. But a wonderfully charming and artistically bloody P E R F EC T remake of Link’s Awakening?? HHHHHH. They even kept all the Mario enemies for some reason! Oh boy, whenever they release this in 2019 apparently really can’t come soon enough.

ER: AAAAAAAAAAAAA

That was all for this direct! I hope you enjoyed my silly, unplanned breakdown of all the cool things that happened. Til the next direct!

Oh and if you’ve got a craving for more game news, be sure to check back on my blog March 1st for the second ‘issue’ (lol) of my monthly viddy game mag!

Stay hydrated my dudes.

#nintendo #nintendo switch #Nintendo Direct #zelda #the legend of zelda #mario #super smash bros #super mario #astral chain #Final Fantasy #dragon quest #deltarune #eggoreviews #gaming

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jtq1844 · 5 years ago

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Monday -- a change in plans

The plan had been: leave Grand Junction early, have a coffee with some friends-of-friends in Glenwood Springs -- which as a little Baha’i history associated with it, drive up to the youth camp at Winter Park to get an evening workshop/concert. Once that got cancelled, I begged an extra night from Pat -- She so graciously obliged -- and rescheduled the Glenwood Springs coffee for Tuesday. I had time to be a tourist. First off, a couple who hadn’t made it to the barbecue talk the evening before wanted to get together for a chat and to buy a quilt (actually two of them) after seeing them posted on Facebook by a young woman from the night before who had quickly got the word and pictures out to the community at large.

So coffee with Jean, Pam and John was on. The banter was immediate. Pam eventually had to leave for a rendezvous with her granddaughter, so John gave me the Grand Junction nickel tour. John and I continued our banter as we walked into a book store. I bought some used audio-books for the long stretches of driving ahead as well as a couple of books that I had actually been looking for. I also bought some locally produced corn meal for my gluten-sensitive baker daughter. As we eventually said our goodbyes, I was seized with the idea that I should explain that I had a small budget for gifts for certain people and personal expenses, and that their purchase of the quilts was for gas money only. John smiled and admitted that my purchases looked a little cavalier. Then we talked a little longer about the pitfalls of being judgmental. It was really an important conversation to have. I believe both of us will be more mindful about the subject in the future.

I went to the Colorado Museum of the West in the center of GJ and had a long conversation with the woman at the desk. One of the stories she offered was that she had a young man in her acquaintance that truly believed in the ancient aliens theory of the building certain structures in the ancient world. This young man was of mixed race. She truly worried about his deep belief in a theory born out of racism. Her happy conclusion was that she is pretty sure he understood her explanation.

I also wondered about the exhibits and climbed that tower for the view of the entire valley. Next on the agenda was “The Trail Through Time,” a short hike around some dinosaur bones with an observation area for the arduous work of excavating them from their millions of years old earthly encasement. It was back near the Utah border. It was hot and dusty. I had to take the word of the posted diagrams to “see” the vertebrae in the stone. I walked further up the path to find the next part behind gate that had been locked. The excavation pits had a day off; it was a Monday after all. I sat down on one of the rough rocks to say my prayers, and couldn’t help but ponder the Persian study of Majnun and Layli. Majnun has lost his love Layli and so searches for her in the sand, the wind, the rocks. Layli, however, is pure spirit. Why do we look for the eternal, the ineffable, the divine in the finite, definable, and mundane? But dinosaur bones aren’t like that. The slow, painstaking work with a fine paintbrush and refined awl is thousands of manhours for each moment a conclusion can be reached. What makes that worth the effort? Is there a good enough return on any of our everyday obsessions to make it worth our while? (Okay, so Layli and Majnun were already on my mind because one of the few audiobooks I physically had in the car was called "One Common Faith." It is so good; everyone should read it at least once, particularly if one wants an intellectual overview on the Baha'i Faith in this early part of the 21st century. Anyway, the Majnun/Layli metaphor is mentioned there. The motivation behind our acts, however mundane, can hold a key into our whole purpose of life was a major chunk of the talk I had given last night. So that was already on my mind as well. One of the people whom I was to meet with in Glenwood Springs had made the trip to Grand Junction the evening before -- just for the fun of meeting new people -- texted me while I was adventurizing that she was stuck in line at the grocery thinking about that particular part of the talk to choose which virtue she was getting to practice at that moment. Yay, synchronicities! Huzzah for the little confirmation that my talk had meaning for someone.)

The evening was spent with an extended family originally from the Marshall Islands (some had been in Colorado for decades, except for those who just arrived a few months ago) who had recently opened their home to house some new friends who had been suddenly evicted a few days before. After an evening of singing and talking, we exchanged hugs and gifts. Theirs is a home of Generosity, Humility, Joy and Compassion. Whenever I contemplate such attributes of God, I will see them as human examples as those who really get it.

PS Pam chose the Japanese textile themed one and the traditional 8-point star baby quilt. The former was dubbed ”exactly right” for a guest room.

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the-himawari · 4 years ago

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A3! Magazine Interview Translation - 2D☆STAR Vol. 11 (½) [Summer Troupe]

A roundtable discussion unveiling the addition of Summer Troupe’s newest member

Kumon-kun is an Undisputed BroCon!!

*Please read disclaimer on blog

---

——Congratulations on your 4th performance, “First Crush Baseball”. Hyodo Kumon-kun, the newly added member, could you please introduce yourself to our readers who are meeting you for the first time?

Kumon: Hyodo Kumon! Currently a second-year in high school! My blood type is A, and my birthday is July 20! My hobbies are watching baseball and collecting jerseys! Umm, also…

Yuki: A brocon.

Kumon: Ah, right, right! I’m a brocon!

Tenma: Don’t say that so proudly…

Kumon: But “brocon” means “you love your big brother”, doesn’t it? I really, really looove my big bro! So I’m a genuine brocon!

Kazunari: Yep yep, that’s one of Kumopi’s charm points!

Misumi: It’s the same with my triangles~.

Muku: The same… I wonder if it is?

Yuki: Just so you know, the brother that he loves so much is the Autumn Troupe’s Classic Delinquent.

Tenma: Classic delinquent…

Kazunari: Yep, fyi, he’s Autumn Troupe’s Hyodle!

Tenma: Those add-ons aren’t helping! It’s Juza-san.

Kumon: My big bro is super, super, duper~ cool, right! I’m the happiest person in the world to be born as my big bro’s little brother…

Misumi: You’re lucky~. I’ll give Kumon a Triangle-kun, swimsuit ver.~

Muku: Uwahh, it’s a new one! His swim ring and straw hat are so cute!

Kazunari: I designed it!

Yuki: And I’m the one who made it.

Muku: Oh, it’s a collaboration between Kazu-kun and Yuki-kun!

Kumon: I-is it really ok for me to receive such an amazing thing?

Misumi: Yep, take it~.

Kumon: Sumi-san…!

Tenma: Err, that’s not something that you should be so moved by! In the first place, why are you suddenly giving him a Triangle-kun…

Misumi: It’s cause Kumon’s cute~.

Kazunari: Ah, did Tenten want one too?

Tenma: Haa!?

Yuki: The hack hasn’t gotten many Triangle-kuns, right? At any rate, it’s because you’re a hack.

Tenma: Don’t call me a “hack” twice! It’s not like I really wanted one or anything…

Kumon: For me as the newcomer to be so brash… I’m so sorry!

Misumi: Tenma, I’ll give you lots when we get home!

Muku: Fufu. That’s great, right, Tenma-kun?

Tenma: Like I said… Ahh, I don’t care anymore! Do whatever you want!

——Now that their talk has heated up, let’s move on to the next topic. What are your honest impressions now that your 4th performance has finished? Also, how was Kumon-kun’s acting?

Kumon: You’re asking about my acting too!? Asking that is scary… I’m nervous…

Muku: Kyu-chan, are you ok? Your face is getting pale…

Kumon: I think I improved from the time of my initial audition, but there was never a day where I could say all my lines smoothly…

Kazunari: Nobody minds that, ‘kay?

Kumon: I messed up my standing position too, and somehow managed to get everyone to follow through for me…

Misumi: That happens all the time~. We’re a team, so it’s natural to help each other!

Kumon: There was also a time I was too flustered during my quick-change and the button on my shirt came off…

Yuki: Seriously, you're lucky I was waiting in the wings at that time, right?

Kumon: There were countless times where I accidentally talked over Tenma-san’s lines too… I only caused trouble for everyone…

Muku: …

Misumi: *Stare*…

Kazunari: …

Yuki: …

Tenma: W-why are you guys looking at me like that?

Yuki: No reason. We’re just wondering if you’ll say something to this infamously negative guy.

Kazunari: Your speech here is important! Leader Tenten!

Misumi: Go Tenma~!

Muku: I’ll whisper too…! Umm… Tenma-kun! Please be kind to him!

Yuki: Muku, that definitely wasn’t a whisper.

Muku: Haa! I accidentally put power into it…

Kumon: Making everyone be so considerate of me… I… I…

Yuki: Seeee, say something already, you hack. Or else who knows how far these pessimistic cousins will sink together.

Tenma: You guys are just hyping it up as you like! …*Sigh*. It’s true, Kumon’s acting was clumsy and he had a lot of misses.

Kumon: Yeah…

Tenma: But, everyone’s like that in the beginning, and we were able to make it safely to the closing night. You picked up on the adlibs well and you’re the one who carried the baseball scenes for us. Good job. You did well.

Kumon: Tenma-san…

Muku: That’s so great, Kyu-chan…!

Kazunari: Ohoho~, Kumopi and Mukkun have been moved to tears. It makes me remember the curtain call on our closing night~.

Misumi: There, there~.

Tenma: You guys are overreacting…

Yuki: Well, your acting will improve as much as you want from now on.

Kazunari: Yep, yep! We’ll work hard together from now on, right, Kumopi!

Muku: I’ll accompany you if you want to practise on your own, so let me know anytime.

Misumi: I like Kumon’s earnest and straightforward acting~.

Tenma: …And there you have it. You can make proper use of your failures in our 4th performance for our 5th performance. But aside from the troubles and failures… Even though it was your anticipated debut stage, are those really your only impressions?

Kumon: Eh…

Tenma: Do you have nothing else to say after you stood on stage for all those days and did your best at acting comedy?

Kumon: …It was fun. The play we put on with everyone was super fun! So I thought I wanted to act more and more with everyone as the Summer Troupe!

Tenma: Geez, see, you do. That’s the most important thing, alright?

Kumon: Ehehe, yeah!

——It looks like Summer troupe’s bond has grown stronger. “First Crush Baseball” was a baseball-themed story, but if you all were to watch a game, would it be baseball? Or another sport?

Kumon: It’s definitely baseball for me! Of course I like playing it, but as expected, watching baseball is the most fun!

Muku: I guess it’s baseball for me too. I’ve been going to watch Kyu-chan’s games, and we’ve been watching baseball on TV together since a long time ago.

Kazunari: Samesies~. I really started liking it after performing it on stage! I’m especially attached to second base!

Tenma: You do get interested in the position you played yourself, huh? I can’t help but watch it when it’s broadcast, and my eyes always drift towards the catcher too.

Misumi: I get it, I get it~. I’m also into baseball! Since the shape of the home plate is like a triangle~.

Tenma: Is that why!

Kumon: Ohhh! The baseball lovers have increased! I’m super happy~!

Yuki: Hmm, I don’t particularly have a sport, but anything apart from soccer.

Muku: Eh? Yuki-kun hates soccer?

Yuki: I don't particuarly like nor dislike soccer itself, but when it’s on TV, those guys’ cheering gets so fired up that I can’t stand it. The temperature in the room rises.

Tenma: (Winter troupe’s) Tasuku-san and them, huh…

Kazunari: Eh! It’s rare for Tax and them to get so hyped-up, so it’s fun and I like watching it together with them.

——And so, your 5th show is currently underway, is that right? Since the play is about ninjas, there are all sorts of actions scenes, but did you undergo any special training?

Tenma: We watched videos of Autumn Troupe’s plays and used them as reference on how to utilize our movements and spacing in action scenes.

Kazunari: It’s hard when you try doing it though~. Four guys moving around on that narrow stage looks awkward if you don’t figure out a way to showcase it.

Tenma: We got Director and (Autumn Troupe’s) Sakyo-san to watch us countless times, and then finally solidified it.

Muku: At first, we were worried we wouldn’t be able to keep up with Misumi-san’s agile movements, but when we tried it, we were able to catch up and move with the tempo too so it actually went well.

Yuki: Saying the Triangle Alien’s movements are agile is putting it lightly.

Kumon: Sumi-san’s kunai handling was super cool too!

Misumi: Ehehe~ thanks~.

Tenma: I’m glad the Summer Troupe doesn’t have anyone who’s seriously bad at exercising.

Kazunari: Strictly speaking, the only one who’s unathletic in our Theatre Company is (Spring Troupe’s) Itarun, right~? (Winter Troupe’s) Azu and Arinrin both don’t like excercising either, but it’s not like they’re unathletic.

Yuki: More than a miracle, it was thanks to that gamer’s obsession that he was able to get through the Spring Troupe’s 5th play.

Muku: We have to do our best too so we don’t run out of stamina until our closing night!

Kumon: Alriiight, then let’s run home today! We’ll go on a run!

Tenma: Yeah, I’ll pass.

Kazunari: Good luck, Kumopi!

Yuki: Go ahead by yourself.

Kumon: EHH!? E-even Muku won't…?

Muku: U-ummm… If it’s just a little bit…

Misumi: I’ll run too~.

Tenma: Geez. Don’t let it affect tomorrow’s performance.

——Speaking of summer, it was Yuki-kun and Kumon-kun’s birthdays a little while ago, right? Did you all throw a birthday party together?

Kazunari: ‘Course, we held surprise parties for both of them 𝅘𝅥𝅮

Kumon: We sure spent a long time thinking together about what kinda design we should go with for Yuki’s birthday cake.

Tenma: Well, it’s because Yuki’s fussy about designs. It was a relief Kazunari did a good job of getting everything down into an illustration.

Yuki: The sugar candy torso was cute. Thanks.

Misumi: We struck out together on Kumon’s birthday~!

Muku: We went with a cushion that was modeled after Sakura High's uniform, and we were really glad Kyu-chan accepted it just like we hoped he would!

Kumon: I’m super happy with it already… and it’s a treasure of a lifetime for me! But since it’s a nice chance, I’d be so happy if we could all have matching ones together someday.

Tenma: That’s true. How about it, Yuki?

Yuki: …Well, I’ll make one for everyone if I feel like it. Personally, I like Sakura High’s uniform too.

Kumon: Yay—! Thanks, Yuki!

Yuki: The hack can make his own though. I’ll teach him how to make it.

Tenma: Haa!? Why am I the only one who has to make it myself!

Yuki: Because you’re Tenma.

Tenma: That’s not a reason!

Muku: U-ummm… It’ll be Kazu-kun’s birthday soon, right! Do you have any present that you want?

Kazunari: Hmmm, something I want, eh~. …What do to, maybe there’s nothing.

Kumon: So selfless!

Kazunari: That’s not what I meant by that~. Lemme think! How about Mukkun? Your birthday’s after mine, right?

Muku: Me? Hm~mmm…

Misumi: Could it be, Muku doesn’t have anything either?

Muku: Ahaha. I think I’ll have something, but when I’m asked like this, nothing jumps out at me.

Kazunari: Right~. Then let’s think about it together!

Muku: Yeah!

——Now then, please leave a message, including any announcements from MANKAI Company, to your fans.

Tenma: There were various troubles this time as well, but following Spring Troupe, Summer Troupe was able to safely raise the curtain on our 5th show as well. I want to create the very best play with these 6 members, without missing a single person, all the way until our closing day. Please continue to support Summer Troupe from now on as well.

---

| Spicy Cuisine Research Society

#a3!#a3! translation #summer troupe #act! addict! actors!#part 2 on hold for now #tbc one day #im too tired to read more vertical text :')

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littleredroseonthevalley · 7 years ago

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Red Rose - Chapter 1

Prologue CH. 1 Ch. 2 Ch. 3 Ch. 4 Ch. 5 Ch. 6 Ch. 7 Ch. 8 Ch. 9 Ch. 10 Ch. 11 Ch. 12 Ch. 13 Ch. 14 Ch. 15 Ch. 16

Summary: Riley, a simpleton waitress from New York, meets a strange group of men. An unwelcome presence lurks, however, and they don’t seem very content in just watching.

Rating: T - Content not suitable for children. Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with minor suggestive adult themes.

Notes: As promised, here it is chapter 1. I wonder who you think Theodora is. Send me your thoughts, I’ll be glad to hear them. No spoilers, though!

Vienna, Spring 2006

Liam stared blankly to the canvas in front of him, trying to get some sense out of it. Up so far, he failed miserably.

To be fair, he didn’t think many people his age would even bother to try, much less achieve, to understand the painting. It was a sickly green, with some reddish shadows that he couldn’t quite manage to place what they were. The title, Schadenfreude, was of not much help. Not only was in German, a language no tutor quite managed to instill in him, it referred to a concept rather… mismatched with the image he currently saw in front of him.

Let’s face it, Liam is pants in art appreciation.

“What have this painting done for you to frown so much at it?” A red-haired girl about his age asked him in French.

He was taken by surprise by the girl’s approach. He got stiff for a second, but with a discreet nod by an inconspicuous man a few meters away, he relaxed again. “How come you know I speak French?” He asked, curious.

“I make a point in being observant. You don’t look Austrian, you’re way too tanned. You don’t look Italian, with all that blonde hair of yours. My first guess was French, but you don’t quite sound like one either.”

He smiled despite himself. He supposed he could humor the girl for a while. “You’re right. I’m Cordonian.”

“A beautiful land.” She said, in a heavily accented Greek. “What brings you to Austria?”, she asked, back to French.

“I’m visiting a friend.” He said, simple.

“But you seem to have come alone.”

“He’s not into art.”

“Ah! So, it’s a he!” She exclaimed, and he laughed. “You’re a tough nut to crack, mister. And I’m Germanic.”

“I suppose I’m a little shy. Or have something to hide.”

“I guess it’s the second one. You’re not into art either, are you?”

He smiled. “Busted. I’m really not. But that painting out in the front was much too beautiful, I got curious.”

She smiled. “Yeah, Hagia Sophia in Purple. It’s one of my favorites, too. You’re out of luck, though… That’s from an early collection by the artist. Now we’re doing abstract art.”

“So I’ve noticed… I never really got those, you know? It seems to me a little… I don’t know, childlike? Chicken scratch?”

She laughed softly, like a violin. “Oh, if I had a dime for every time I heard that! You’re not really wrong, those are very strange images. But the thing is, it isn’t about what you see, but what you feel, what comes to your mind.”

He raised an eyebrow, confused. He had heard that quite a lot at his art lessons, but never quite comprehended what that meant.

“Look, let me help you,” She motioned to him to face the painting. “What do you see?”

“Green?”

“I can work with that. What does green mean to you?”

“Apples? Forests? Grass?” He guessed, but faced the patient negative from his master.

“No, I mean, what remind you of? Something intimate, deep.”

“I guess, sickness… Jealousy…” Yeah, definitely that. He could feel himself getting nauseated from watching it.

“And what does the title mean?”

“To be happy for one’s misery.”

She hummed. “And how do you relate what you feel to that concept?”

“That the artist is glad to make me sick?”

She once again laughed, this time more hysterically. “Perhaps. She could be a bitch.”

It was his time to snort. “Hey… I never really got your name.”

“Pardon me. I am Linda Rosa Valois, enchanted.”

He froze in shock. “Valois? As in...”

The redhead cut him off. “As in the artist of the childlike painting, yeah.”

Liam started to stutter. “Lord, I am so sorry! I did not mean to...”

“Don’t worry. It’s art! The beauty of it is that all viewpoints coexist peacefully.”

“That’s wise, I suppose… I’m Liam.” He extended his hand. As she handed him hers, he kissed the top of it.

“Now, if you excuse me,” She said, softly, “I must get back to work. I am here every afternoon, should your guy-friend decide he’s not into coffee either.”

“He despises it.” He laughed. As Linda Rosa turned to leave, Liam calls her back. “Miss Valois?”

“Yes?”

“What do you want to say with your painting?”

“Perhaps I’ll tell you someday.”

New York City, Fall 2015

The winds started changing in New York, signaling the end of Summer. Riley couldn’t say she wasn’t glad. The heat has been suffocating that year, never before have the season felt that hot.

She passed by a mean-faced guy in black, hanging in front of a car. The street was rather empty, she could see four or five people around. Almost nothing, considering it was New York, and still kind of early.

The graying skies predicted rain that evening. She pulled her jacket closer to her carboniferous hair, in an attempt to cover her neck and shoulders, exposed by the waitress’ bun and her cleaved uniform.

To be a waitress in a dingy watering hole in Brooklyn is far from being Riley’s dream, but, given the circumstances, it was her only choice. It paid well for a blue-collar job, and if she could manage not to punch anyone, the tips weren’t that bad either.

A block or so from the bar she saw another man dressed in black. She noticed the red button in his clothes. Her breath hitched in her throat.

Trying to pass unnoticed, she pulled the jacket, looked down and kept walking, hurriedly. She believes she wasn’t seen, but to be sure, she took a few wrong turns in her way to work.

A few too much, it would appear, as, when she arrived, Frank, her lovely boss, was waiting for her.

“You’re late!” He screamed, or rather, spoke in his indoor voice. Frank couldn’t be bothered to lower his tone.

Ignoring him, she went on to work her shift.

A few hours into the night, she was close to be finished with it all.

“Ah, the glamour of New York, taking out the trash in a Saturday night!”

One of her co-workers, Daniel, was helping her. She liked Daniel, she supposed. Even though he was a little lazy, he entertained her with his tales from the ship he used to work.

“It could be worse.” He said, “There could be…”

A mouse jumped out of one of the dumpsters.

“RATS! Riley! Save me!”

“Don’t tell me you’re afraid of this adorable little mouse! He’s a survivor, just like us!”

Back inside, she noticed an entourage just got in. Frank said they were a bachelor party. Nice.

“Waitress!” Said one of the three guys, a middle-eastern looking young man. “We need your best table!”

“Forget the table!” Said another, a jean-clad man. “Just bring us whiskey, and lots of it.”

Yay. Rowdy drunkards.

Daniel paled looking at them. Riley could just foresee what he was about to do.

“I’ve got a date tonight!” He said, “I’ll never make it out of here on time!”

“You really want me to take the bachelor party?” Riley said. “Why do I always get the rowdy tables?”

“Because you’re way better at this than I am.” Cheeky bastard.

Riley facepalmed, but smiled kindly, despite her deep displeasure. “Fine. But you owe me one.”

Saying her goodbyes, she walks over the table.

“Hello, gentlemen!” She mustered her best smile. “I’ll be taking care of you this evening!”

She wasn’t quite finished when yet-another man, dressed in a designer shirt, ordered steaks. If the accent wasn’t a dead give-away, that would be her first clue that they were foreigners.

“The closest thing we have to a steak is the burger.”

“Dare I ask for your wine list?” Asked the middle-easterner, dejected.

“We’ve got an excellent vintage house red. And it also comes in white!”

The jean-guy, with common sense, ordered whiskey and four burgers. Counting only three clients, she wonders why four meals. Turning for the kitchen, she only just bumps into the fourth party-goer.

“Sorry I’m late,” He says. “Thank you for your patience, miss…?”

“Riley. No trouble at all.”

“Charmed to make your acquaintance, Riley.”

“It’s really nice to meet you too. Now, excuse me, I’ll be back with your order shortly. Please, make yourselves comfortable.”

Riley was wiping the bar and emptying the tip jar. The place has only just closed, but the party was still around. Lost in some pop lyrics, she was surprised by the tap on her shoulder.

“I think we’re about to head out.” The blond, Liam, told her. “I just wanted to thank you… and apologize. I know we kept you late, and my friends can be… demanding.”

Well, back when she was only but a kid and her mother took her to church, the clergyman used to say there was no sin big enough to be unforgivable if a truly regretful heart asked, sincere, for pardon.

Besides, they could have been jerks and just left.

Feeling the irritation evaporate, she answered: “Demanding? Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

As it seems, Liam found humor in her words. “I got the feeling that you could take care of yourself.” As an afterthought, he added: “If you don’t have any plans tonight, maybe I can make it up to you by buying you a drink. We’re about to go to a club.”

“Oh,” She said. “Which one?”

“We’re hoping you might have some advice about that. We’re not from around here.”

No, really?

Figuring from the outlandish requests and the thickness the check had acquired while in their table, she believed they were wealthy, if not well-connected. Going into clubs shouldn’t be a hassle for them.

“In which case,” She said to herself and for Liam. “I recommend going to the hottest club in town this season, Kismet.”

“That sounds perfect. Lead the way!” He said, with a smile.

Making use of a dress she had in her locker due to an event a few weeks before in the bar, and perfectly refreshed, she stepped outside to meet the others.

Receiving a round of compliments due to her look, she must admit she wears green well.

Liam, however, was a little less than amused. “I doubt she appreciates you talking about her like that.”

Maxwell, she finds the guy in the shirt is called, apologizes for all the catcalling. “Now let’s get this party started!”

“So, she’s our tour guide now?” The jeans, Drake, surly asked.

“Riley” Liam emphasizes. “Was kind enough to agree to show us around. She’s doing us a favor, so play nice.”

A short and somewhat awkward cab ride later and they were in the club. She blinked and found herself alone with Liam, as the others went to the dancefloor.

“Thank you for bringing us here.” The blond said. “The guys are having fun already.”

Taking in consideration that statement, Riley says: “I bet you’re used to putting everyone else first.”

Humoring her, he says: “And why would you say that?”

“I can tell. I’m good at reading people.”

A memory flashes in Liam’s mind for a second, but he soon represses it.

“Now,” She said. “Forget your friends. How do you like it here?”

“What I enjoy the most is the company.” He says, in a somewhat flirtatious smile. “And I believe I am in your debt. What will the lady have?”

“Surprise me.” She said.

A minute later they were toasting with some flaming cocktails.

“A funny choice,” She teases.

“Careful.” He says, blowing the fire. “We’re playing it hot.”

“That’s what makes it fun!” Downing hers, she finished with a “Thanks. I guess we’re even now.”

He hummed. “I guess you’re right. Now I’ll have to find some other excuse to get you to stay.”

“Better think of something fast.”

“Well… the guys are really warming up to you.” She doubted. “If you stick around, you can keep them in line.”

“Oh, yeah?” She said. “I’m pretty sure I just saw a girl dump her drink on Maxwell.”

“See? You’re needed more now than ever.”

“Yeah.” She tutted. “But I’m no babysitter.”

“And what if I buy you another drink? Does that work for you?”

She tucked a rebel strand of hair behind her right ear. “Now you’re not even trying to persuade me.”

“Okay. You got me.” He raised his hand and fake-sighted. In a more serious tone, though, he added: “Hanging out with you is the most fun I’ve had this entire vacation.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know quite how to respond. “That’s… sweet. I suppose you haven’t been enjoying yourself all that much, then.”

“It’s…” He wrestled the words. “Been wonderful, but there’s something missing. I really wanted to…”

“To?”

“It’s… Well… You might think it’s silly, but I’ve always wanted to see the Statue of Liberty. It wasn’t in the guys’ plan, so we never got around to it. And now it’s my last day here…” He real-sighed now. “I don’t mean to sound ungrateful. It has been thoughtful of them to throw me this bachelor party. They’ve done their best, but I’m not in a celebratory mood.”

In her most neutral tone of voice she could muster, Riley said: “I thought it was Tariq’s bachelor party.” Tariq would be the middle-easterner. “Congratulations, Liam.”

In truth, she was kind of annoyed. It wasn’t cool of his part to go out with a girl while his fiancée waited for him an ocean away.

Liam was downcast. “If you knew the whole story, you might not congratulate me so quickly.”

“Oh?” She quipped her ears.

“I actually don’t know who I’m going to marry just yet… Only that I have to pick her before the winter is over.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“The truth is, Riley…” He twists his face in a displeased scowl, as the word is hard to pronounce. “I’m the Crown Prince of Cordonia. That is, a country just across the sea from Italy, to the east.”

Crown Prince of Cordonia? Riley knows of the Bonaparte-Valona-Rys, but as far as she remembered, the Crown Prince was Leo. So are the broadcasters, such a small, somewhat backwater country never makes the news.

Trying to ease him, and herself, into it, she says: “I kinda had a feeling.”

She didn’t have much success. “You did?!”

“You’ve got a bunch of fancy guys in your bachelor party who tried to order fillet mignon at a bar.”

Wordlessly, he conceded they were an eyesore. “And you don’t care? Not everyone takes in stride.”

“It takes more than that to intimidate me.”

He scoffs at his own foolishness. “You’re fearless. I admire that in you. You decide who you are. You could be anything, do anything. What drives you?”

That’s a statement one step too close to home. Thinking about what he said, she answers: “To live every day to the fullest. I long to make every day an adventure! You only get one chance in life, and I want to make mine count.”

“That’s beautiful, Riley.”

Hearing the commotion behind her, Riley uses it as a chance to change subjects. “Your friends seem to be having the time of their lives.”

“I’m happy for them. They deserve to have fun.”

Riley takes notice of the rehearsed answers. It’s like interviewing a Miss Universe.

“Tomorrow,” He adds, with a little more sentiment. “It’s back to Cordonia for the start of the social season.”

She looks, passingly, to the bar. Tariq seemed to be ordering yet another bottle of champagne. As it was Saturday, the club was packed with people. Men, women, all single and ready to mingle. But, in a first look, there was someone who dissents from that trend. A man in black. God, it was the man from earlier today!

Riley got scared. She needed an escape plan.

“But it’s not tomorrow yet.” Riley said.

“What are you suggesting?” Liam asked, curious.

“You said you want to see the Statue of Liberty. Let’s do it! I know a place where we can catch a boat.”

“A boat? How will you manage a boat?”

She laughs. “Ye of little faith! I’ll call in a favor, don’t worry.”

“A favor? Just like that, you can get us on a boat after midnight to see the Statue of Liberty?”

“I have some friends who owe me. Come on! I know it’s important to you, so let’s go!”

“Right now?”

“No, next week! Of course, it’s now. Your friends look busy, they won’t notice we’re gone.”

“You’re not taking no as an answer, are you?”

“No.”

He flashes the happiest smile she has seen all night. “Then I happily surrender to your demands.”

Down at the marina, boarding the boat, Liam admires the view of the city.

“Not a bad scenario.” He says.

She smiles at him and says: “Now I’m dying to know why you’re so eager to see the Statue of Liberty.”

“Can’t you guess?” He said, half lame, half joking.

“I’d say it’s because it symbolizes freedom.” She mockingly scratched her chin, as an upscale psychologist.

“Freedom is something I always wanted.” Liam said, in excitement. “But I’ve always known that my role would require me to give up much of what I desire.”

Something was really off. Always? As she got home, she’d investigate that statement better.

“You are the Prince. Can’t you do what you want at least some of the time?”

“As a member of the Royal House, my actions reflect in all of Cordonia. That is a lesson I’ve never been allowed to forget, no matter how badly I want to.”

The last part of that sentence was said staring longing at Riley’s figure, who was looking at the sky, philosophically. The driver calls for her, she pays for his services discreetly.

“Let’s go!” As she said, the ship started running.

They get quiet for a moment, up until Liam says: “I don’t think you’d be able to pull this off.”

“You just don’t know me very well.”

He’s amused by that answer. “You’re right. But I’d like to change that. You’re fascinating, Riley!” He thinks for a second, and then asks: “Why are you doing all this for me?”

She smiles, and gives a somewhat true answer: “You seemed like you needed it.” She sure knows she needed it.

“That’s… so sweet of you. No one has ever done something like that for me before.”

“You’re a prince, Liam.” She said. “People do things for you all the time.”

“I do get all the perks that come with being royalty, but no one ever seen me as me. No one ever listened to me the way you listen. No one come up with a spur-of-the-moment plan to make my dream come true.”

“Oh, Liam…” She was sincerely touched. “What else do you dream about?”

“Finding someone. Someone who can be the Queen Cordonia needs.”

It seems sad to her that even his dreams are grounded by a harsh reality. Seems hopeless, even.

“And…” She tries to amend. “Someone who you fall in love with, right?”

“That’s never been part of the criteria that the Cordonian Council uses.”

Riley may be an adult, her princess pink dreams from infancy may be long gone, but it does bring a wave of disappointment to her heart.

As she contemplates her feelings on the matter, the mist dissipates, and they get their first good look into the Statue.

“So,” Riley asks. “What do you think?”

Liam looks stargazed to the great, green woman. The definite embodiment of freedom holding a torch above her head – the northern star for all people in the world. He sees the broken chains at her feet, half-hidden by her robes, close as they are from the island. The symbol of a foreign nation, ironically, means something so opposite to him as a symbol of his own homeland.

“Magnificent.” Liam breathes. “I’ve heard that art has meaning because of how it makes the viewer feel. It only matters if it moves you.”

Riley smiles, sweetly. “And?”

“And right now, looking at this view with you, I feel like anything is possible. Thank you for this moment, Riley. This feeling… this mean more to me than you could ever know.”

“Liam…”

“I want you to know I admire you. Your adventurous spirit. The way you follow your heart.”

“You can live that way too, you know?”

“If only. My whole life I’ve prepared myself to do what’s best for Cordonia.”

“Well, we’re not in Cordonia now.”

Liam watches those seemingly-familiar onyx eyes as he draws close. He puts his hands to her sides, pulling her in and kissing her deeply. As she goes out of breath, they pant in a rhythm, with their foreheads against each other’s.

“I’m glad to have met you, Riley. I’ll never forget this night.”

In between kisses, they soon are brought back to the shore.

As the reality comes down at Liam, they have a lovers’ farewell, as he hops in the cab.

Happy with how her night turned out, Riley had a skip on her step walking her way home.

As she unlocked the door and turned on the light, there he was. The man who has been stalking her all day.

“I have finally found you.”

She screams in terror.

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secretcswriter · 7 years ago

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Going Home for Christmas

Summary: When Killian Jones’ best friend Emma Nolan asked him to come home with her for Christmas acting as her fiancé, he never could have guessed what it would mean.

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Chapter Five | Making (Pretend) Plans

The photographer Mary Margaret eagerly introduces to them is a family friend named Ruby.

She and Emma spend a good five minutes catching up and laughing, effectively leaving Killian on his own to a discussion with Mary Margaret about the weather and how she hopes they have a spring wedding.

He’s begun to realize that he’s far too out of his depth here, and not in a good way where he can save himself. No, he’s drowning.

“Let’s go outside to the garden. I know it’s cold, but I found this great tree you could stand under and the snow is super pretty.” Ruby says with a crinkle in her nose.

“Oh, I know exactly which one you’re talking about.” Mary Margaret says. “It’ll be perfect.”

Emma goes to him and takes his hand easily as they follow Ruby and Mary Margaret outside to the garden, where he finds himself caught up in the wonder of winter. He hadn’t realized the castle sits with its back to a lovely lake with mountains in the picturesque distance.

Snow makes it all the lovelier, most of it untouched as the flakes trickle toward them and melt almost instantly against his exposed skin.

It’s truly stunning as he looks at their surroundings from the spot beneath the tree that Ruby wants them under. Emma’s still holding his hand as he looks out, entirely enamored with the quiet and calm of it all.

“Quite the view,” he says.

Emma hums. “It’s pretty.”

Killian can’t help but smirk at Emma. She’s staring up at him, snowflakes caught in her eyelashes and dusting the top of her head. Her cheeks and the tip of her nose are rosy from the cold.

“You’re pretty.”

He sees her blush deepen as her mouth falls open ever so slightly as if to admonish him. He chuckles and leans in to leave a kiss to the side of her head. When he moves away, he finds Ruby and Mary Margaret staring on giddily.

“That’s perfect!” Ruby gasps. “Again! This time, Emma,” Ruby moves in close to them and physically adjusts them so Emma’s hands are pressed to his chest and she’s turned toward her mother. “Okay. That’s good.”

They take a few like this, and a few of him holding Emma close with her hand on his arm. It feels like a proper portrait, with how she keeps adjusting their heads and chins and shifting their hips to get the right angle.

She’s warm in his arms, and she still smells amazing. It’s almost enough for him to forget they’re standing out in the cold of winter, posing for engagement photographs he’s fairly certain will somehow be his downfall.

“Okay, let’s do… oh, I know. Forehead kiss.”

It continues like this for a while. They take a few forehead kiss pictures, and then Mary Margaret suggests they go back inside where they can sit by the fire.

They move eagerly back inside, hand-in-hand, and Ruby takes a few pictures of them from behind before insisting they take a few in the garden with him standing behind Emma, his arms around her middle and his nose in her hair.

None of this does him any good emotionally. His stomach won’t stop being flooded with butterflies and his heart feels achingly full at each press of her against him.

She turns to him at one point and grins so happily at him that he imagines that maybe, if he just got a minute to speak with her, they wouldn’t have to keep pretending.

Oh, he is in love with her and none of this is helping matters.

Why did he agree to come along again? Right, because he’s a good person and a good friend. But for some reason he feels less than good right now.

“Thank you for this, Ruby,” Mary Margaret says after the last photo is taken on the floor of the den with the soothingly warm fireplace.

“Yeah, no problem! These are going to be killer. I’ll get them downloaded and pick out a few for review by three this afternoon.”

Mary Margaret cheers. “Oh, yay! Thank you. We’ll keep an eye out.”

Both he and Emma thank Ruby and the photographer goes on her way, clearly excited to see the fruits of their labor. Emma’s mother turns to them and lifts her shoulders.

“Well, that was fun.”

Emma’s a little bit breathless. “Yeah.”

“When do you want to start planning the wedding?” Mary Margaret asks. “I have some ideas, but I don’t want to impose. I just… I am so excited, Emma.”

Emma sighs. “Mom… we just got here.”

Her mother nods in understanding, a frown riding her lips. “I know. I know. I’m sorry. It’s… I’ve been planning for this day since you were a little girl and now that it’s here, I can’t wait to share with you.”

His best friend softens. She tucks her hair behind her ears and nods. “I know.” She glances up at him and back again. “I guess a peek wouldn’t hurt. But we’re not making any decisions.”

The queen gasps excitedly. Her face brightens up so much that it’s almost as if she hadn’t been smiling before.

Killian watches Emma get whisked away by her mother and he laughs slightly at the frantic look on her face as he waves at her. “I’d come with you, but I’ve got plans with Leo.”

Emma rolls her eyes a little, but has no room to respond because Mary Margaret’s talking her ear off.

He watches them go for a few moments before he hears his name. Turning, he discovers Leo approaching from a cluster of people gathered nearby talking and gawking at the royal mother and daughter.

“Killian, you ready for our hike?”

He grins at Leo. “Of course. I’ll need a minute to change into something more comfortable.”

Leo bobs his head. “How about I meet you back down here in fifteen?”

+ + +

Prince Leopold is adventurous at heart and quite fun to be around. They’re climbing a nearby mountain while they talk about the world and the nonsense within it, and it’s more fun than he’s had in a while.

He genuinely enjoys being with Leo, and he gets the feeling Leo feels the same toward him.

They reach their objective and stand atop a cliff looking out at the castle that lies beyond.

“The world is so much bigger up here,” Leo says, slightly out of breath with deep pink cheeks hiding behind his scarf.

Killian chuckles. “Aye. It is.”

He takes in the enormity of the sky and how peaceful he feels. It’s good at giving him a straight head where it comes to his feelings. They seem less significant as he looks around from way up here.

“So, I promised myself a long time ago that when Emma got engaged and it was serious, I’d bring my future brother-in-law on a hike and we’d talk about his intentions.” Leo says honestly.

Killian meets his gaze and nods. “Alright.”

Leo crosses his arms to make himself more intimidating. “My sister is incredibly important to me and I’ve seen her go through way too much heartbreak. I don’t want it to happen again.”

Killian knows this feeling all too well. He nods. “Aye. I know. I promise, I wouldn’t ever do anything to hurt her intentionally. I… I love her and I’m not keen on letting her go.”

Leo smiles at that. He looks over at the castle. “I can tell she feels the same about you.”

From an outsider’s perspective, the words bear more weight than they really should. Killian’s heart races.

“Do you think you’ll come back?” Leo asks. “For the wedding or… I don’t know, living here?”

Killian shakes his head. “I don’t know, mate. I’ve thoroughly enjoyed my time here so far, but… I think that’s up to Emma.”

Leo sighs and nods. “I guess.” He presses a hand to the back of his head and breathes the day in deeply. “I always thought when she got married she’d come home.”

It’s really not his place to make promises, but he figures one more won’t hurt amidst a sea of lies they’ve already spread far and wide.

“I’ll talk to her.”

Leo’s eyes widen brightly and he laughs. “Really?”

“Sure,” Killian grins. “Family ought to stick together. That’s what my brother’s always told me.”

Leo claps him on the back. “You know, you and I are going to get along, Killian. I can feel it.”

+ + +

“I’ve been planning for a long time for the chance to give you the wedding of your dreams,” her mother admits as they walk into her study.

It’s been a whirlwind of a day, complete with far too much Killian gazing at her with far too much affection in his eyes. But it isn’t as if she’s been any better. And that kiss. Even if it was shortly lived, she's having a hard time making ends of what any of this means.

This trip wasn’t ever supposed to get out of control. It was always supposed to be simple and they’d show up and he’d be charming and her parents would be happy that she’s happy. And then they’d go back to their lives as they were.

But instead, she’s come face-to-face with a realization that her family really, really wants her to be married. To Killian Jones.

They love him more than she could’ve anticipated. Even her father, the man who once shot at one of her previous boyfriends, seems to have no problem whatsoever with his little girl marrying Killian.

What could they possibly see in him- in their relationship- that they haven’t seen before?

Emma’s eyes widen as her mother shows her the three gigantic scrapbooks of ideas sitting out on her desk.

“I have ideas for just about any theme you might want to pick from,” her mother says. “But I was thinking… that you could have the wedding here and we could have it out by the water at sunset.”

Emma stares at the pictures in the book closest to her as her mother flips frantically through another to find the page she’s looking for. She stops finally and points out some details they might use.

“Look, your father and Leo could build this beautiful archway,” Mary Margaret caresses the picture as if it’s dear to her. “And we could decorate the garden with lantern lights and you could dance under the stars.”

Truth be told, the idea is beautiful. Emma can’t imagine anything better than a wedding like that. She imagines they’d have to do it in the summer, so they’d have plenty of time to plan, but at the same time no time at all.

Emma smiles fondly at her mother’s description. “That sounds so beautiful.”

Mary Margaret looks up at her and shakes her head on a soft sigh. “Emma, I can’t believe you’re getting married.”

Emma smiles back at her mother. This is all she’s dreamed about for a long time, giving Emma a wedding.

“I know,” she admits on a laugh. “It’s hard to believe.”

Mary Margaret shakes her head. “No, I can see it between you. You and Killian were meant to be together. The way he looks at you, and the way you look at him...” Her mother sighs happily. “He’s not like anyone else you’ve brought home. He’s different. A really, really, good different.”

Emma’s heart flutters. “How can you tell?”

Her mother shrugs and lifts an eyebrow. “He makes you smile. With your whole face. And you look at him like he could change the world and you really think he could.” Mary Margaret smiles. She reaches out to brush a strand of Emma’s hair behind her ear. “And when he speaks, you hang onto every word. It was never like that with anyone else.”

Her mother has tears in her eyes and Emma’s chest tightens because of her words.

“And I imagine he’s the first person you think about in the morning when you wake up and the last person you think about when you fall asleep. That’s how it is with your father and I at least. He’s your best friend and you’re his.”

The weight of her mother’s words ring all too real with Emma.

Her mother clears her throat and straightens out. “Do you want to take a look at what I have? I know it’s a lot to take in, but… it’s a good start.”

Forcing herself to stop thinking too much about the situation she’s put herself in, Emma forces herself to smile and nod. “Sure.”

+ + +

Her phone buzzes in her hand as she stands outside of the door leading to the rooftop where Elsa had said they were waiting for her.

It’s an email from her mother, sent with high importance. She taps into it and finds the email reads: I love them all! What do you think? I prefer number one for the announcement. Dad thinks so too. :) - Mom

There are a few photos attached. Emma’s heart skips a beat when she realizes just what they are- they’re from the engagement photo session they’d shared just a few hours ago.

It had been quite something coming off of their first kiss and moving straight into half an hour of close touching and easy laughter. She’d been surprised by how natural it all felt, and how calm she’d been with him holding her close.

Although, she isn’t surprised at all when she thinks about it, because everything with him is simple and safe.

The first picture, her parents’ favorite, is of them standing beneath the tree, both of them happy as they hold onto each other in a less than natural pose. She can’t help but to think she fits kind of perfectly there, with her head pressed against his collarbone, and his arm wrapped around her.

The second is a picture of them laughing about something as they sit in front of the fire, wrapped in a quilt. It’s a close shot, capturing just how widespread their grins are. Her mom was right about one thing- she smiles with her whole face around Killian.

The third is of Killian kissing her forehead. Their eyes are both closed and he’s holding onto her so lovingly and tenderly she wonders if it had been as real to them in the moment as it appears.

She doesn’t have time to check the rest of the pictures because she gets a text from Elsa begging her to come outside already.

So, she types off a quick, Love these! Number one is great. -Em and sends it back to her mother before opening the door to the rooftop party.

It’s pretty out here, as it always is, with flowers her mom had planted for her secret garden all hidden away for the winter. The warm lantern lights hanging overhead give the space a familiar and safe glow. There’s Christmas music playing near the outdoor bar her dad had installed and all of her friends from brunch are assembled, wrapped in blankets and baggy sweaters.

“Emma!” Elsa calls out happily. She hurries to her side and slings her arm through hers. “You have come just in time. Belle has brought with her the finest cheap wine and Aurora and Ashley brought snacks.”

Emma laughs happily. Spending evenings out on the rooftop with her friends was always a highlight growing up at the castle, and this is no different.

They gather together on a blanket with pillows and cushions. Emma accepts a glass of wine when it’s offered to her by Belle.

“So… how’s being engaged?” Elsa asks in a sing-song tone.

Emma laughs and shakes her head. She mimics her friend’s voice, “It’s nice.”

The girls chuckle.

“Do you guys have a date yet?” Anna asks.

“No, not yet.” Emma says. “We just want to be engaged for a little while before we start drowning in wedding plans.”

Anna’s eyes widen. “Good for you! Kristoff and I dove right in. Not that I regret it. Because I don’t.” Emma smiles slightly when Anna rubs her baby bump. “But it’s a lot of hard work.”

Elsa shifts in her spot and grabs a cookie from the pile of snacks in the center of their circle. “So, how’d you guys meet?”

Emma takes a breath. “Um… well, we met-” She can’t help but laugh a little. “We met at his brother’s birthday party. I was dating this guy at the time that knew him and I mistook Killian for his brother when I introduced myself. I kept trying to talk to him about what little my boyfriend had told me about Liam and he was just so confused until I called him the wrong name and then he cleared it up.”

Her friends giggle.

Aurora has a bite of cake and tilts her head. “And now he’s your best friend! Imagine it.”

Emma smiles happily. “Yeah. He is.”

“Oh my gosh, tell us about your engagement story. I love engagement stories!” Belle insists.

She laughs and shrugs. The story she and Killian came up with for this is good, she has to admit. It’s full of just enough facts that are true for it to come across as plausible.

“Okay. So one of our favorite places to go is this little diner called the Starlight Diner. He asked me if I’d like to go for dinner and I agreed, not really thinking much of it. When I showed up, he had our table decorated in flowers and he was wearing a fancy suit. So I asked him, ‘what’s going on?’ and he said, ‘can’t a guy take his beautiful girlfriend out for a special dinner?’”

The girls laugh. She does too, mostly because this is something that actually happened. Minus the relationship stuff.

“And so we had dinner and I’m thinking the whole time that he’s either crazy romantic or he’s proposing, or both. But it didn’t happen, and instead we went for a walk by the harbor, and I had decided it wouldn’t… but then he pretended he noticed something on the ground.” Emma shrugs, smiling happily at her own story. “And then he asked me and I said yes.”

Her friends swoon over the entirely made-up story, and Emma can’t help but feel the slightest bit of pride over the tale because of how sweet it is.

“I am so glad you’re getting married to him.” Elsa says. “He loves you so much, Emma.”

Suddenly, as she had with her mother, she feels nothing but guilt. Killian can’t love her. Can he?

“And he’s not a jerk like what’s his name,” Belle adds. “He’s a proper gentleman.”

“He is.” Aurora agrees.

Elsa hums. “Well, when you get to wedding planning, just remember, I’m your best girl friend and I have performed as maid of honor before.”

The rest of the group tries to get her to nominate them for the position. Emma can’t help but laugh as she looks to Elsa.

Of all the people she’d dream about having in her wedding, she thinks Elsa takes the cake. Elsa was there, through thick and thin, when she still lived at the castle. Come to think of it, Elsa was sort of her Killian before she met Killian.

She isn’t sure what to make of that.

And she isn’t sure what to make of the tightness in her chest as she thinks about Killian either.

#cs ff #cs au #my writing #ghfc #mc

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crumblingautumnleaves · 8 years ago

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Too Far

Requested by: Anonymous

Summary: The boys unintentionally hurt the reader’s feelings after making some careless jokes.

Pairing(s): MET x Reader

Warnings: Swearing, a lil bit of angst but ultimately a happy ending (spoilers).

“What would grandma find disturbing, yet oddly charming?” Mark asked the three of you, waggling his eyebrows in a comical manner.

You scanned your cards before sliding your best into the centre along with Ethan’s and Tyler’s. Kathryn was watching from the sidelines, desperate to get some extra work done, whilst Amy was in bed ill. That just left you and the troublesome trio to record the entire live stream; not that you were complaining, they were your best friends after all.

“Okay,” Mark announced, picking up the cards in front of him. “A big, black dick. Geese. Or...” He trailed off and you suppressed a smirk as you watched his face scrunch into a grin at your card. “Mark’s unquenchable thirst for Jacksepticeye’s delicious asshole.”

The boys roared with laughter and, in turn, you laughed at their reactions. Mark had one hand clutched to his chest as he tried to control his giggles, whilst Ethan was slamming his fists on the table. Even Tyler had one of those rare, toothy smiles on his face as he chuckled alongside them.

“That’s obviously the winner.” Mark managed to get out after his laughing fit, holding up the card for someone to take it.

“Thank you, although it was Mark-luverrr-number-one-xxx that wrote that card.” You declared, plucking the black card from his fingers and adding it to your growing pile of winnings.

“Your turn to pick one, Y/N.” Tyler told you, pushing the cards across to you.

You chose another fan written one and groaned. “What does Y/N do to stay in shape?”

“Y/N? In shape? Please, I saw them get a stitch from running down the stairs too fast.” Ethan laughed and you playfully hit him on the shoulder.

“Just gimme a card so I can judge it.” You nagged him and he stuck his tongue out in retaliation, finally handing you a white card. Tyler and Mark played theirs and you spread them out in front of you. “Ethan’s dying YouTube career. Vigorous jazz hands. Or projectile vomiting.” You studied the cards before picking the ‘Vigorous jazz hands’ card and handing it back to Ethan.

“Yay, I won!” He hollered. “Although I didn’t appreciate the dig at my channel.”

“Ethan, you have three hundred thousand subscribers. That’s great, man.” Mark reassured him, placing a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “And only about ninety percent of them came from me, be proud.”

“You fucker.”

“Ethan’s right,” Tyler cut in. “He got a few from Jack too.”

“At least I have a real channel, Tyler.” Ethan shot back. “Go on, what else were you gonna mock me for? My acne? The fact that I’m copying every major YouTuber ever? That I moved from Maine to work here?”

The other two boys sat in silence, trying to think of something else to say.

“It could be worse,” Mark said after a while. “You could be Y/N. How many subs have you got, Y/N?”

“Forty thousand.” You grumbled. YouTube was always a sensitive topic between you three, the amount of subs you had compared to your best friends was slightly insulting and you kept finding yourself wondering why your channel was so much more insignificant.

“Now, aren’t you grateful that Mama Mark got you so many subscribers?” Mark asked Ethan.

“I’m clearly not the one who needs help.” Ethan remarked, nodding towards you.

“You’re right!” Mark cried, facing the camera that had been rolling the entire time. “Whoever is watching this, go subscribe to Y/N, they’re not that bad at making videos. Well, they are, but their ideas are original. Expect the gaming, the commentary and the overall theme of it. But yeah, check it out.”

“Gee, thanks Mark.” You mutter sarcastically, trying and failing not to take it personally.

“Sorry, that was uncalled for.” He admitted. “I didn’t mean to insult your channel.”

“Right, he was just wondering why he’s friends with you when you don’t get him extra views.” Tyler joked.

“Exactly. Why do you think Ethan hangs out with me?” Mark agreed, nudging the blue-haired boy playfully.

“Go ahead, you’ve made so many jokes about my career and acne that I’m immune to it.” He challenged.

“Crap, he’s right.” Mark said. “But if we really want to make jokes about physical appearance then we can just rip on Y/N again. Their whole face is one big joke.”

Shock consumed you as you struggled to blink back the tears that were fighting to escape. You couldn’t believe that one of your closest friends had gone there, especially after you had confided in him about your insecurities.

“What’s wrong, Y/N? The weight of reality finally setting in?” Tyler asked, commenting on your silence.

“Dude, not even the weight of reality can compare to Y/N’s weight.” Ethan laughed.

That did it.

“Excuse me,” you whispered, standing up and practically running out of the room. You covered your face with one hand so that neither the camera nor the boys saw the tears flowing down your cheeks.

Locking yourself in the bathroom, you let out a loud sob that triggered several more until your throat hurt and your eyes stung. You glared at yourself in the mirror, scrutinising every part of yourself that you hated. Finally, you wiped away any traces of tears and took a deep breath before exiting the bathroom. However, you got the wind knocked out of you when you immediately walked into something solid on the other side of the door. Looking up, you realised you had crashed straight into Tyler’s chest as he and the other two stood waiting for you with concerned looks on their faces.

“Hey, Y/N, you okay?” Ethan asked softly.

“We wanted to check on you but decided to wait until you were finished in there to apologise.” Tyler added.

You glared at them, hurt sketched across your features. Mark stepped forwards slowly and wrapped his arms around you cautiously, as if you could shatter like glass at any second.

“I’m really sorry about what I said,” he apologised. “We all are. We realise we shouldn’t have made fun of you, even if it was just a joke. It was tactless and we want to make it up to you.”

“You know, I normally wouldn’t care if you make jokes about me,” you admitted. “But what you said is true. I’m constantly afraid that you’re going to cut me out because I’m not as successful as you. And what you said about my looks, well, that just hurt.”

“Are you kidding? Y/N you’re our friend, we couldn’t care less about how many subscribers you have.” Mark reassured you. “And as for your looks, you’re the only one that sees anything besides the smoking hot piece of ass you really are.” He paused before grimacing at what he had just said. “I kinda regret saying that, but you see my point.”

“Thanks, guys,” you mumbled, a small smile tugging at your lips. “I’m sorry I left in the middle of the live stream.”

“Don’t worry about it, you are our main priority. We turned the microphone off as soon as you walked out. Right now it’s just showing Chica sleeping in her bed, the viewers love it.” Tyler told you with a grin.

“So do you want to continue with the stream or should we wrap it up?” Ethan queried.

“No, let’s carry on. I’ll be fine.” You told them, walking back to the table and scratching Chica behind the ears as she woke up from the commotion.

Mark switched the mic back on and apologised for the brief intermission before explaining that you were okay and everything had been resolved.

“And I just want to say in all seriousness that you should check out their channel. I have never known anyone more dedicated to their work, or as passionate about the community as Y/N. We’re all extremely grateful to have them in our lives.” He concluded.

You beamed at him, silently thanking him, before announcing that you should get back to the games.

A few hours later, you had quite possibly destroyed your friendship with the boys in Monopoly as you counted their money and stacked it into neat little piles.

“This is ridiculous, Y/N has all the good spots.” Ethan whined after landing on your square again.

“What can I say? Taking money from men is my speciality.” You say with a smile.

“That makes you sound like a hooker.” Mark laughed.

“Nah, hookers can get laid.” Tyler joked with a wink, resulting in a rude response from you as you struggled to hide the smile that had formed on your face.

“And there goes the last of my cash.” Ethan grumbled.

"Dolla dolla bills, y'all." You cheer, making it rain with their money. “I win, bitches.”

“Congratulations,” Mark drawled. His phone buzzed and he read the notification on the screen. “It’s Amy, she says to check your YouTube account.”

You frown before pulling it up on your own mobile. Everything looked normal except... wait.

“Holy shit!” You cried, clapping a hand over your mouth in shock.

“What is it?” Tyler feigned ignorance, but the smirk on his face suggested he already knew what was going on.

“Four hundred THOUSAND subscribers! I have four hundred thousand subscribers!” You screamed, grabbing the boys and pulling them into a group hug.

“You have more than me? Ouch, that hurts.” Ethan joked, holding a hand to his heart.

“Shut up, Ethan.” Mark scolded, turning back to you. “You deserve every single one of those subs and more. I just wish it didn’t take all this for people to figure that out. Including us.”

You beamed at him, tears springing to your eyes again, only this time you were crying for a different reason. “Thank you, I love you three idiots so much.” You told them. “But just so you know, once I’m Internet famous, I’ll have no use for you.”

“Ouch.”

“Rude.”

“So true though.”

#met x reader #x reader #youtube x reader #crankgameplays x reader #ethan nestor #ethan nestor x reader #tyler scheid x reader #Tyler Scheid #apocalypto_12 #markiplier x reader #mark fischbach x reader #mark fischbach

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loquaciousquark · 7 years ago

Text

[Fic] A Little Slice of Heaven

Rating: K/G/so, so harmless Characters/Pairings: Fenris/Hawke, Aveline/Donnic, Orana Word Count: 5000ish? Summary: Hawke wins a baking contest and yet seems distraught. Fenris investigates. Jade is bad at summaries without Quark to vet them, but alas, ‘tis the price of surprise gift fic.

happy you can survive practicals you survived practicals you put in an offer on a house MOVING DAY! here it is on your blog so you don’t even have to check your dash for it yay hiatus your assignment: write an essay explaining the significance of cake in fenhawke fic, since apparently it’s become A Theme

also on AO3

i love you

Sweat crept down Fenris’s forehead, tangled in his hair, seeped between his skin and the band of his trousers, as he raised his blade above his head and held it, impossibly still, counting the seconds in Tevene as he forced his arms not to tremble, his grip to stay firm. Thirty. Forty. Fifty...fifty-five... He brought the blade down with whistling speed, nearly slicing into the stone pavers, but at the last possible moment he twisted his wrists and the blade skimmed parallel to the floor, his body following the twist until one foot left the ground and he pushed himself into the air, legs swinging around as the blade came flying up again in an arc, his back arched until his feet hit the ground again and he threw his weight forward, the tip of the sword this time sparking against the floor as he dragged it for a moment— all for show, of course; these moves in combat would get him killed, and he’d learned them for Danarius’s pleasure, to titillate the ladies and frighten their magister lords. He’d never particularly enjoyed them, even when he did enjoy fulfilling his master’s every whim, and something distasteful still lingered on his tongue, mixed with the sweat from his upper lip, whenever he performed them. Used them; they were tools from his former life, and as tools they were excellent for conditioning his physical form in times when he otherwise had no outlet for his skills. A break, as it were, from more habitual training drills, or from sparring with the Guard, forcing him into positions and angles he’d normally never consider, stretching muscles that otherwise might remain untested until a crucial moment in battle. And if he focused on his breathing, he could ignore the memory of the drums to which his master had demanded he dance. Always one for theatrics, Danarius. In some ways it sweetened the dance, that he now performed it only for the skeletons of the magister’s mercenaries that littered his front hall. His hall, now. His tools. His choice. A knock at the door.

For a panicked moment he thought perhaps he’d tempted fate, that his mockery—but no, he’d know, and besides he recognized the sound of those particular gauntlets against the wood, and so he lay his sword to rest on a nearby bench and opened the door. Aveline and Donnic stood on the stoop, their polished guard armor glinting in the late afternoon sun, and the spring breeze that snaked past them reminded him abruptly that he wasn’t wearing a shirt. “Do you greet all your visitors this way?” Donnic asked, raising an eyebrow. “Only the special ones,” he answered, as Aveline swallowed a laugh and he stepped aside to allow them entry. “Pardon me. I was—” “Practicing?” she asked, nodding to his sword. He wiped the sweat from his forehead on the red band around his wrist and cast about for his shirt with the vague and sinking feeling that he’d left it upstairs. “Yes,” he said. “It has been—” “Quiet,” she supplied. “Mercifully so,” Donnic said, leaning against the wall. “The sort of quiet that comes before a summer storm, but I’ll take it while it lasts.” Aveline shot him a look Fenris didn’t quite understand. “Is trouble brewing?” he asked. “Do you need—” “Nothing out of the ordinary,” she said. “Nothing unusual. We’ve just come from the Wintersend festivities at the Viscount’s Keep—” “The Viscountless Keep, more like,” Donnic said. Aveline shot him another look, this one more understandably aggravated, before returning her gaze to Fenris and saying, “It’s a horrible joke, but every official event that happens only underscores the empty throne, and the tension between the Knight-Commander and the First Enchanter.” “Nothing unusual, then,” Fenris said. “Things continue as they have been,” Donnic said with a shrug. “No one’s overstepped their authority yet, though if you ask me—” “He hasn’t,” Aveline cut in, but Fenris recognized the protective glower on Donnic’s face from their conversations regarding the Knight-Commander, accompanied by beer and diamondback. “And even if he had, that’s not why we’re here.” “I know,” Donnic said. “I still don’t think—” “Hawke was there,” Aveline said doggedly, and behind her Donnic shook his head and shot Fenris an apologetic look. “As Champion.” “Of course,” Fenris said neutrally, though he wasn’t quite sure why he felt such an instinctive need to be cautious. He and Hawke were on good terms, these past few years; he wasn’t surprised he hadn’t been invited to the festivities and certainly didn’t feel left out for having not attended what had no doubt been a tense affair of interminable ceremony. Aveline waited an awkward beat, but he couldn’t think of anything else to say; Donnic’s expression grew more apologetic. “Well,” his wife said, recovering, “she won the baking contest.” “The what?” “It’s a traditional part of Wintersend in Kirkwall,” Donnic said. “Celebrating the return of fresh milk and butter and eggs and whatnot. Have you never wandered through Lowtown and wondered why every fishwife has a pie sitting on her sill?” “Er,” Fenris said, “no,” and then the rest of Aveline’s words caught up to him and he said, “She won?” “That’s what I said,” Aveline said. “She seemed very upset and left soon afterwards,” Donnic said. “Which is unfortunate, as she was supposed to judge the fishnet knotting contest that followed. They had to ask the captain of the guard to lend her expertise—” “I told you never to speak of that again,” Aveline said, her face flushing. “And I told you we oughtn’t bother Fenris with the fact that Hawke almost walked out of the Viscount’s Keep without her cake,” Donnic said, “yet here we are.” The silence that followed was very awkward, Aveline avoiding her husband’s gaze but not quite meeting Fenris’s, Donnic scratching his stubble while looking at the ceiling, Fenris remembering with sudden force that he was sweaty and shirtless and in no state to visit Hawke, not that he really had a reason to, not that he needed a reason (as she’d told him countless times). “It does seem...” he said at last. “Odd?” Aveline supplied. “Yes,” he said, though privately he settled on nigh unthinkable that Hawke would forget about cake, let alone win something with her culinary...talents. “Was something said?” “Not that I heard,” Aveline said. “A few of the noble ladies did speak to her, but I can’t imagine any of them saying anything—” “—that she would take to heart,” he finished, shaking his head. And then, hesitating and wincing at his own hesitation, he said, “You think I should...speak to her?” “Couldn’t hurt,” Donnic said neutrally, although Aveline cut her eyes at him in such a way as to suggest disagreement. “That’s why we stopped by to tell you.” Aveline’s mouth, half-opened to interject, shut abruptly. Her husband smiled thinly and straightened, retrieving his wife’s hand and tucking it into the crook of his elbow as she attempted to collect her indignation. “If nothing else, you might as well try to get a slice of the cake, if there’s any left. Lemonberry. Really quite delicious.” “And Hawke made it?” Fenris said. Donnic shrugged. “That’s what she claimed, and I don’t think she’d lie just to claim the title of Best Baker in Kirkwall.” “For a very limited selection of Kirkwall bakers,” Aveline grumbled. “You could do at least as well.” “Ah, if only I had a title, I too could compete with the likes of Dulci de Launcet,” Donnic sighed, steering his wife towards the door. “Anyway, good luck to you, Fenris.” “Thank you. And good day to you,” Fenris said, following them to the door, shutting it behind them, and staring at it in bewilderment for a good minute or so before deciding that nothing could be decided before he’d had a bath.

“Yes, hello—oh, Fenris,” Orana said as she opened the door, a worrying note of relief in her voice as she recognized him. She stood aside to let him in, her shoulders straightening as she looked inward and said, more loudly, “Why, Master Fenris, what a pleasant surprise to see you. Are you well?” “Yes,” he said cautiously, though she wasn’t looking at him. “Is everything—” “Oh,” Orana said, almost a sigh, closing the door, “well.” They stood for a moment in the dim foyer, the west-facing door letting in enough of the late afternoon sun to choke the small space with burnished dusty light, melting into the color of Orana’s hair as she turned her head back to him and said, “You’ve come to see the mistress?” Before he could answer she continued, “Of course you have, someone must have—well. She came home about an hour ago, disappeared into the kitchen—I thought she was leaving the cake for dinner, but then she came back out with it and a bottle of something, I’m sure Bodhan could tell you what it is, and she’s been sitting on the landing in front of her mother’s door ever since.” A cold shiver ran down his spine as his stomach sank. “Her mother?” Orana shook her head. “I don’t know, honestly. Well—she did say her mother used to make the cake, but she seemed happy when she was helping to mix it. I don’t—know what changed.” Uncertainty washed over him, familiar and painful, and for a moment he felt a strong urge to turn around and leave, apologize and come back tomorrow, to flee and rethink his strategy (or appalling lack thereof). But then a voice, slightly unsteady and echoing with hiccups, floated through the foyer: “Orana? Is there someone at the door?” “Yes,” Orana called back, and before he could stop her, “it’s Fenris.” “Fen—” was the only reply, followed by a curse and chaotic series of thumps, and he couldn’t have left if he had tried. Orana’s hand rose to cover a fond smile, though concern lingered in her eyes. “Good luck,” she said, more quietly, and then she was gone in a rustle of skirts, leaving him to face the house alone. He briefly considered what he might say, in light of this new information, all with a sinking feeling that his best plans and intentions rarely survived their first encounter with Hawke; and then he steeled his shoulders and stepped into the hall, which proved empty. No Bodahn, not even a Toby lolling in front of the fire, which smoldered with inattention and would soon be little more than embers. It may have been Wintersend, but one day hadn’t been enough to chase the winter’s chill from the high-ceilinged hall, and so he reluctantly stoked the flame, adding another log, well aware he was stalling and still lacking any sense of how to proceed. He heard a clatter, this time from the general vicinity of Hawke’s chamber, followed by a dog yelping and a profuse apology. Sighing, he tossed the poker to the side, its own clatter upon the hearthstones a sort of warning, and then he turned and made his way up the stairs. He stopped on the threshold of her room; she wasn’t on the bed, or standing in front of the fire (though Toby lay there, nose buried between his paws), or—“Fenris!” she exclaimed, with a hint of a hiccup in her voice, as she turned around in the chair at her desk. “Fancy seeing you here.” “Indeed,” he said, aware that he was being too grave, aware that the fragile façade of her levity might crack with the slightest pressure and that his concern for her had always made her weak at the knees. She stayed in the chair and kept looking at him with the same forced cheer, a waver in her smile begging him to smile back, and he swallowed and said, “I...heard there was cake.” He meant it as a joke, the sort of non sequitur she delighted in, but instead she turned away from him with an alarming speed, her shoulders hitching, her voice muffled as though she’d put a hand in front of her mouth. “Cake?” “Er—” he said, and then he saw it on the desk, a white cloud topped with red berries, missing a few slices that revealed a yellow crumbly cake within, perched upon a crystal stand. Involuntarily, his mouth began to water. “Is that...it?” “Oh,” she said, forcing out the last of the levity, “yes,” and then she put her head down on the desk and started to sob. He froze, his hand half-lifted to reach for her, but before he could decide whether or not to close the distance she picked her head back up and rubbed furiously at her eyes. “So sorry,” she said, “it’s the brandy. Or whiskey. Or...” she reached for the bottle resting next to the cake, turning it in search of a label. “Whatever this is. It’s nothing! I’m fine.” “Hawke,” he said, as she continued to stare at the bottle with an intensity that suggested she hoped to divine its contents with the mere power of her gaze. Or that she hoped if she stared at it long enough, he would stop staring at her. He merely waited. “Oh all right,” she said, shoulders slumping, slinging an arm over the back of her chair as she turned back to him. Tears continued to drip down her scrubbed-red cheeks, and she only met his eyes for a moment before saying, “Who tipped you off? Aveline?” “Hawke,” he said again, and she shuddered. “All right,” she said, though he thought she was more annoyed with herself than with him, “I’m not fine. But—” and in a moment she was out of the chair, pacing past him to the fireplace, so close he felt the whisper of her robe against his arm, though she didn’t seem to notice. “It’s so stupid.” “The cake?” “No,” she said, waving him off as she kept pacing, first in front of the fireplace, then around her bed, following an erratic path as if to shake off some unseen pursuit. “Well, yes, but I know—I know it never goes away. I’ve been living with this long enough that I know—but this stupid cake—” Her voice failed with a quiver and she stopped as suddenly as if she’d run into a wall, pressing the heels of her hands into her eyes. “It’s not even—Bethany was the one who helped Mother bake, not me.” He took a step towards her as she dropped her hands and stared into the middle distance. “I was always too busy pounding Carver into the dirt to help, or—well, once he got bigger I usually lost—but anyway I remember wandering through the kitchen long enough to lick the spoon once it was in the oven. Mother made sure I helped her at least once, and it was fun, but I wasn’t good at it like Bethany was, and it sort of—it was theirs, you know? Their thing, like Father and I and bad jokes, they made this cake, and it was for special occasions and birthdays and Carver always—well,” she said, “it doesn’t matter.” It does, he wanted to say, listening with an ache in his heart that was as much to do with her grief as it was do with his own hunger, the gnawing emptiness within him that came from having no such memories and wishing with all his strength that he did. Even if they eventually pained him, as hers so obviously did. “And...making it with Orana,” he said cautiously, “you...miss them?” “No!” she said, with a despairing sort of laugh. “No, that was fun! We had to look through Mother’s books to find the recipe—I only remembered the basics, and with baking you have to be precise—and there were all sorts of fun little notes and memories—good ones—and Orana’s very patient with me when I’m her sous chef. And it looked just like I remembered—no, it’s those blasted—it’s our cake,” and now she sounded furious, and afraid. “It’s the Hawke family cake, except apparently it’s the cake my grandmother always brought to the viscount’s keep for Wintersend, and her mother before her, and the recipe probably came from Orlais and—” She stopped again, shoulders hunched and hands clenched, lips pressed together so tightly the skin around them turned white, and he waited; and in the silence she finally looked at him again, a cautious glance out of the corner of her eye, and he watched her breath catch, at what he didn’t know, and then leave her in a long sigh that made her shoulders droop and her hands flex, still grasping at nothing. “Orlais is known for their fine pastries,” he ventured, and her lips turned up against the weight in her eyes. Encouraged, he said, “Hawke—” “All those ladies,” she said, her voice soft, and then she looked away from him and said, “all of them, de Launcet and her cronies, but even Lady Busson—all of them, coming over to me and telling me how good it is to see the legendary Amell cake restored to its former glory. How much they’ve missed it, all these years, or the ones too young for that telling me that their mothers used to speak of it in jealous tones, and even Bran was speechless to see it, though my grandmother’s been dead for I don’t know how long and Maker knows it’s not like Gamlen’s been competing and—” He couldn’t stifle a snort at that, and she half-smiled again before saying, “And I realized, when Busson was bossily informing me that it was about damn time someone from my house brought the cake—I’m not an Amell. Mother was,” she said, and tears began to well in her eyes again, but she blinked them back. “But I’m not.” “Hawke,” he said again, more out of instinct than any sense that he might get a word in edgewise, and yet she shuddered. “But Kirkwall is my home,” she said. “And I feel like an imposter, a Hawke in the Amell estate, but I realized—all those ninnies harping on me and badmouthing me the moment they turned their backs about how my blood and name have soiled this house, but this is their city too and I wouldn’t lift a finger to help one of them but I’d die to keep them safe.” “You nearly did,” he reminded her as the memory clenched a cold fist around his heart. “You are just now realizing this?” “Oh,” she said, startled, and he remembered that for her the aftermath of the battle with the Arishok was a haze of sleep and pain she’d done her best to forget. “That. That was an emergency, and Isabela’s life was on the line, and I was the only thing standing between Thedas and Qunari domination, and I’d hate for history to remember me as having failed.” “You nearly died.” “Ah, but he died first,” she said. Before he could chastise her further, she said, “Did you know the lemonberry is native to Kirkwall? I didn’t. We always had a bush in a pot, and Mother eventually planted it in Lothering. There’s one in the garden here. I wonder if that’s where Mother got hers." Her voice went very quiet. “I suppose I’ll never know.” He waited through the pain, as silently as ever, though it seemed to pass more quickly than he remembered. “It never had berries at Wintersend, though,” she said, now looking at the rug as if she saw the fields of Ferelden before her instead. “Far too cold still. I never knew a Wintersend that looked remotely of spring till we came to Kirkwall.” “And I did not know of a winter that needed sending,” he said, and for a moment he felt the pervasive heat sinking through his skin into his bones, the cling of humidity mingling with sweat on his brow, the very air nearly too thick to breathe. If nothing else, there were moments he missed being warm, missed feeling as though the coolness of stone was a relief instead of a curse. The stones of Kirkwall held winter’s deadly chill far too well for far too long. But there were fires, and the warmth in Hawke’s eyes as she said, “Well, I’m glad we met in the middle.” Now the room was too warm, her pink cheeks and his hot neck, but it was a warmth from within he’d never known in Minrathous. “Indeed.” He was acutely aware they were both standing in the middle of her bedroom staring at each other rather stupidly, aware that it still didn’t feel—right, to reach for her, no matter how much he wanted to; and he saw the same recognition in her eyes, the painful restraint as she abruptly crossed her arms and said, “Well! So. Just missing my family and wrestling with the fact that I’m a Hawke calling the Amell estate my home. A Kirkwall noble with Fereldan bones. I’m sorry you were bothered, but thank you for coming, please don’t feel—” “I came,” he said, very carefully, grave in the face of her half-forced cheer, waiting for the smile to slowly fade from her face before he finished, “for the cake.” “For the—Fenris,” she said, and then she was laughing, one hand on her cheek while she hugged herself, and he had to divert all his strength into maintaining a solemn expression as her laughter washed over him, sweet and clear as a mountain stream. “Cake,” he insisted, but his voice cracked on the word and she started giggling anew. “All right,” she said, waving him off as he turned towards the desk, “wait, let me fetch plates, don’t you dare stick your finger in it, I had a hard enough time keeping Bodahn and Sandal out of it, never mind Donnic—” and then she was gone through the door, leaving him to contemplate her laughter, his desperate desire to understand what fragments of memory were left to him, his inability to give himself so freely as she always did, to everyone, at a moment’s notice; but mostly the cake on the desk looking so particularly delicious as that it might erase all his worries with a single bite. She came back with two plates, forks, and a serving knife, “no glasses, I’m afraid,” she said as she set everything on the desk with a clatter, “and besides, the drink’s not that good, and it wouldn’t go at all with the cake,” and with a clink of metal on crystal she cut two slices and carefully slid them onto the plates. She bowed as she presented one to him. “Your cake, milord.” He accepted it with undisguised eagerness and within a moment closed his lips around the first bite, the icing melting as it touched his tongue while the moist cake dispersed itself throughout his mouth and then—the lemonberry curd, tart and creamy, and an involuntary noise of contentment escaped him. “You like it?” Hawke said, teasing, but as he opened his eyes he saw her take a bite with similar results. “You,” he said, “did not make this.” “I’ll have you know I measured all the ingredients,” she said, indignant, “and I kept the curd from scrambling. And I mixed the icing. And I kept the oven’s fire constant.” “You—” “That was Father’s job for the longest time,” she said. “Even when he said Bethany and I were ready, Mother didn’t trust our stamina. It’s not easy.” He considered this use of magic, how if he had heard it mentioned before trying the cake he would have decried it as hopelessly frivolous, how he currently could find no fault with it. He looked from the cake to Hawke’s face; she was staring into the middle distance again, her lips upturned, her eyes wistful. “When Mother did let us do it, we had to take turns. It was a game, who could stand it the longest, though I was older and so I almost always won. Bethany would try to get Carver to distract me—once he put a snake down my shirt and I almost burned the house down and oh, did Mother beat him with a spoon—Father was too busy laughing—” She sighed, long and soft, and finally she said, “Maybe I’ll decorate.” “Decorate?” “The house,” she said, and he inhaled sharply. “I know,” she said, “I told everyone not to touch anything, but...it’s my house now, not a mausoleum. And M—” she pressed her lips together, then said, very carefully, “Mother would be appalled to know that I’ve kept out the velvet table runners through two summers.” “A grave offense indeed,” he said, though he knew little of what was appropriate in such situations—Danarius had been fond of velvet year-round. But she smiled, grateful, and he felt his own lips quirk and took another bite of cake, simply because he could. And because it was delicious. “And I really don’t like the color of the runners on the stairs, maybe I’ll get new ones. And...oh, I can’t remove the crest,” she was saying, and so he took the opportunity to continue eating, “but surely I can embellish it. Ribbons? More of Isabela’s crude drawings? Feathers!” “Feathers?” he said involuntarily, around a mouthful of icing. “Hawk feathers, of course,” she said, without a trace of irony. “I’m sure I can find plenty around the Sundermount. Or the Dalish might have some they’d be willing to part with. Will you come?” “Now?” She glanced out the window. “I suppose it is getting a bit late. Tomorrow, in the morning?” “You want me to assist you in your search for hawk feathers,” he said. “Of course,” she said, and then her cheeks went pink again and she said, “And I can drag Aveline along too if you’d like, it’s her fault you’re here in the first place—oh, don’t give me that look, I know it is—and Merrill, or maybe Isabela, or—” “Whomever you think is necessary,” he interrupted. “Well,” she said, but she left only you, though written clearly across her face, hanging unspoken in the space between them. It filled his ears anyway, and he quietly reveled in the sound before saying, “Just Aveline, then.” “So you two can sourpuss behind me all the way? As you wish,” she said, and then she said, “You didn’t have to come.” “Indeed I did," he said. “This cake is outstanding.” She laughed and shook her head. “Oh, well. Do you want to take it home? I can always make another.” “Has Orana had any?” Her eyes went wide and she clapped her hands to her cheeks in alarm. “Oh no, oh, no, I came home a sobbing mess and swooped up to my room with the cake and the brandy and didn’t even think, oh, I am the most ungrateful wretch—” “Yes,” he agreed unhelpfully, polishing off his slice and setting the plate on the desk. “I will leave you to your remunerations, then.” “Of course,” she said, “I’ll see you out,” and she picked up the cake stand and turned, wobbling— “I’ll carry it,” he said, neatly stepping into her path and plucking it from her grasp. She narrowed her eyes at him, though this close her eyes weren’t what particularly caught his attention. “I’ll have you know I carried it all the way back from the Keep myself.” “You’d had significantly less brandy then,” he said, and she huffed and swept out of the room, but he could hear the suppressed giggle in her voice and followed with a irrepressible smile. She had him set the cake on the table in the foyer and opened the door, leaning her cheek against it and squinting against the light and looking at him in the way that made him feel as though she were drinking him in like a fine wine, savoring every drop, and he made himself put one foot out the door in defense. “Thank you for the cake,” he said, unable to keep his eyes from lingering on the way the sunset painted itself on her pale skin, rosy and inviting, shading the crinkles at the edges of her smiling eyes. “Thank you for coming,” she said, “Fenris,” and then their eyes met and for a timeless moment the sun-drenched air between them caught its breath, waiting, and he could feel the whispered ghost of her lips on his cheek. “Hawke,” he said, and her smile broadened. “If ever—“ “I know where you live,” she said, teasing and gentle and far more beautiful, he thought, than he could withstand. He forced his other foot over the threshold. “Watch the steps,” she said, not unkindly, but definitely laughing at him. “Forgive me,” he said, slowly backing away. “I fear the cake has robbed me of my senses.” “A foul magic indeed,” she said. “I’ll be sure to speak to Orana about making unsanctioned changes to the recipe.” “After you’ve apologized for hoarding the cake.” “I believe you were leaving,” she said, and his feet touched the street. “I am,” he said, but he stopped where he was, looking up at her, basking in her mock disapproval. “Sundermount tomorrow?” “Not too early,” she warned, and he stifled a snort. “And only if you want to.” “If you insist.” “I do.” “Then I will see you in the morning,” he said, turning away with what little remained of his willpower. And then she laughed, damn her, and he nearly turned back around. “Good evening, Fenris,” she called, as his toes curled around the paving stones in resistance. “Hawke,” he said, but he didn’t turn around, and her delighted laughter followed him all the way back to his mansion. He paused in the doorway, surveying the bodies; the dust; the diffused, murky glow of sunset through dirty windows; and he pondered, as he stepped over a splintered bench he’d never bothered to move, how he’d never had a home, per se, how this place still felt like a hideaway, even after all these years, how he had no memory of a home to call upon during the long dark cold winters of Kirkwall. How could he offer a home? How could he take the home she offered, with nothing to give in return? He couldn’t, after all, and he’d been right to leave. But spring was coming, wending its way on the breeze floating through the cracks in that one window he’d never replaced, and with it the hope that one day—perhaps—they’d bake the family cake together, and he would stay and eat his fill.

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